The Lamentable Truth of Planning
by kasey8473
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 1  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.  
Notes: Taking a break from a fandom can sometimes re-inspire when one takes another look at it.

* * *

All of the best laid plans of men had a tendency to go awry given time. This was a truth Sir William Thatcher was becoming quite familiar with to a regrettable extent.

"Marriage is a business negotiation."

He thought if he heard those words one more time he was going to be sick. For three weeks, he'd negotiated with Jocelyn's father and for three weeks, the man reiterated that single sentence. As if Will hadn't understood there was business involved in the process of getting into a marriage. Even the peasant class had negotiations to contend with. He wasn't ignorant of it.

"You can't simply marry for love."

Avery said it as though love was unthinkable, a rarity for sure, and something quaint to behold. Will's hope of having Jocelyn as his own faded by the day until she had once more become that unreachable beauty in the distance.

"This is a two-way matter, Sir William. If you take my daughter and her generous dowry, I must have something in return."

The man _did_ sound sorry, though Will suspected it was his own imagination playing tricks on him.

"Have you soldiers under your command?"

He knew damn well not. Will schooled his features into a blank mask. A weariness descended upon him. Oh, how he was tired of this back and forth dance! He forced himself not to sigh, to shake his head instead.

"No, you don't, do you? You've little land, little livestock. The only things you do have are a pile of coins you've a knack at amassing and royal favor. Royal favor, however desirable it is, is fleeting, so that leaves only the coin remaining to your credit. Unfortunately, that good and honorable character you've displayed is of little use to me. As is the coin. Coin I have. What I, and my family, need are men. Soldiers to protect us and our lands, for I have few men myself. Simply put, Count Adhemar has men and the loss of the ones he has promised me from his forces won't hurt the combined strength of his Free Company."

Titles meant nothing. Discovering that his hard-won title was no help to him had been a difficult blow to bear. Without the land, livestock, and men that usually went with such titles, he was still no better off than he'd been before the title had been gifted upon him. Without any of that, he had nothing to offer a woman save a young husband with those things Jocelyn's father had mentioned. Coin, royal favor, and a good and honorable character.

Where was the golden land he'd dreamed of? Where was the promise of a better life? Money was the easy part, he'd found. Happiness came at a far higher price than he could pay.

"However," Avery continued, a pleased smile taking a firm stance on his face, "I do like you far better than I like Adhemar. It's just that…my daughter must go to the wealthier man for the reason I've stated. It has nothing to do with like or dislike, you see."

"She loves me," he said through lips that felt stiff and numb. He could hear a tinge of desperation in his tone. That smile seemed to mock him and he swallowed hard against a stomach that lurched with nausea.

Avery's gaze dropped for a few seconds, then returned to his. "Yes. And she can treasure that in her heart until her dying day as Adhemar's wife, giving him nothing but children and a perfect hostess when he requires one. I don't ask her to love him, Sir William, only to be a dutiful daughter and make a marriage that will protect her kin. If only you were the one capable of doing that, but you are not. This is purely business. There's no emotion involved. Jocelyn will eventually accept her life, as will you. She doesn't have to be the only woman you love."

His heart was splintering into tiny pieces inside his chest, like a lance shattered by an opponent's blow. Will could feel that aching and struggled not to raise a hand to rub the spot.

"Because I do like you, I've researched other options for you, considering all the while what you can offer in material wealth."

Will frowned. What was Avery saying? It certainly sounded like--

"For a certain class of girl, you're what she dreams and hopes of marrying. If you'd more in the way of livestock, or even a parcel of land, we could have found you much better."

Disbelief rose, mixed with anger. "You bargain for me after denying my suit."

"Yes, I do. I have said many times these weeks that I do like you. I'd much rather have you for a son than Adhemar, but we cannot change facts. You are important to Jocelyn and for that I would see you provided for as I would a dear son. She doesn't give affection lightly, nor do I."

The urge to stalk out and rage against the unfairness of life was a constant push in his veins, but he strangled that urge. Lesser nobles, as he was, didn't storm away from discussions with greater nobles. Unless one was Adhemar, of course.

"Will you listen?"

What choice did he have? Jocelyn was no more and he shouldn't leave in a huff. He could almost hear Geoff in his mind telling him to play nice and keep a potential ally. "I'll listen."

"I have an exceptional option to present you first. She's the daughter of a middle class merchant. Her father has gained enough wealth for her to be acceptable as a wife for a lesser noble. She was schooled as a lady with ladies and can read, write, and do sums, all of which would be an asset to your household as it grows. Never underestimate the learned woman." He glanced down at a piece of parchment on the table. "Her needlework skills are splendid, even praised as extraordinary, and you'll find her manners impeccable."

Is he offering a woman or selling a horse, his mind drawled with dark amusement. Avery indeed sounded as though he was trying desperately to sell a bit of horseflesh. Where was the catch?

"This young woman is discreet, prudent with coin, and…she comes with land. Not a huge amount, you understand, but enough that there is livestock already being taken care of there. No house. One would need to be built, but at the rate you're acquiring wealth I see no problem in that venture." He paused once more, as though to lay out the clincher for the offer. "She comes from a long line of women bearing plenty of sons. I believe the match would be excellent for you both."

"Does this paragon of womanly virtues have a name?"

Avery's eyes burned with an intense light. "Christiana."

Will blinked. "Sorry. Did you say…?"

"Christiana," he repeated, hurrying on before Will's mind could fully process it. "You look so surprised! Her father gave me leave long ago to negotiate a match for her if I saw a man who would appreciate her. She was trained with Jocelyn in readiness for such a day." The gleam in his eyes became challenging. "Can she not raise her station as you've raised yours? Can her -- what was it you said? Ahh, yes -- her _stars_ not change as well?"

"Of course she can! Anyone can change their stars." But marry Christiana? He'd never looked at her that way and wasn't sure he could. He'd always noticed Jocelyn, not the maid at her side. "She loves another," he protested.

"Who? Your man?" Avery shook his head. "He's not an option. Her father wants her to marry up or equal in station, not down. Unless your man can do the same as you? Has he that ambition? Perhaps dreams of a shop of his own or something?"

No, Will knew better. It was Wat who dreamed of a business of his own, not Roland. Roland was content where he was.

"I see by your expression that he cannot. So, you are her option. You're the best man I've seen for her, and believe me, Sir William, I've seen plenty. Jocelyn wasn't the only maiden searching for a husband at tournament." Leaning back in his chair, he sighed. "All others are of wrong character to suit her and wouldn't show a concern for her kin. I believe that I could search the world over and never find another man worthy of her."

Worthy of Christiana, just not worthy of his own Jocelyn. Will tried not to let bitterness take a hold. "I don't --"

"If you choose not to marry her, she'll remain in my household and that will be the end of negotiations for her. I simply don't think I could find a better man for her."

That was unfair to Christiana. He could see Avery was serious however, that finality of the decision in his expression.

"Think on it a few days before answering. Really think. You would have an educated wife, one familiar with the rules of nobility, and, I daresay, one as pretty as Jocelyn. Christiana would be a credit to you. Consider her."

And with that, the meeting was over.

* * *

While Jocelyn had raged against the parental order to spend at least one month in a convent, Christiana had refrained from comment, packing their things in preparation. She'd been told to pack most of Jocelyn's wardrobe and those things that could not be done without. That meant, in her mind, that Jocelyn would not see the family home again as a single woman. She would be married straight from her time in the convent.

Christiana packed the same for herself, knowing without being told that, one way or another, she also would not be returning to that household. Nor would she be attending Jocelyn after the marriage took place. Why? Because she'd admitted her part in Jocelyn's seduction of Sir Will, for what else could she have done? Jocelyn's father had already known and to lie would have brought worse consequences. She only hoped she'd not be sent home in disgrace.

Avery had made it clear that he was disappointed in her. She'd been praised as a maid only to abuse his trust in her. She was lucky he didn't dismiss her straightaway, tossing her into the street as she'd heard happen to others. Her attendance of Jocelyn in the convent was only until he could decide what to do with her.

Now, two months into their stay, she wondered when his judgment was going to come. When would she be told her fate, or was he going to let her remain there for months, that wondering making anxiety rise up inside her? It was just like him to do so.

Christiana worked a tiny flower bud in pink silk thread, then sighed and tried to ignore Jocelyn's weeping. Her lady was taking their stay very hard. At first, she'd kept her hands over her belly with whispered pleas to God that she'd conceived, that she'd be allowed to go back to Sir Will, but as the days went by and her time arrived as it always did, she'd begun to weep.

A day had not gone by since that she had not wept as though her heart was torn from her chest. It went beyond theatrical. Jocelyn had always had a flair for the dramatic, yet she dabbled in them no more. Her tears and pain were honest. Christiana thought it might have been best in the end if Jocelyn had not truly loved Sir Will as she did. She would have born this more easily.

Like Christiana's own separation from Roland.

"He must have found you a match as well." Jocelyn's voice was husky and low.

A match? Not likely. Why would he recommend a maid to any man when he considered her untrustworthy? "Of course not, my lady. I'm here to cheer you up."

Jocelyn snorted, wiping her cheeks free of her tears. She'd stemmed the flow, though Christiana was well aware it was only temporary. "You kid yourself. We've both been sent here to make sure we bleed like chaste women ought to."

She carefully knotted her thread in the cloth and snipped the needle free. "My lady--"

"He's not giving me to Will is he? I wouldn't be here if that was the case. You hear things, Christiana. Tell me the truth. Who is he giving me to?" Fear danced in her eyes.

With one glance, she knew she couldn't bear to be the one to state the truth they both knew in plain speech. It would have to come from Avery himself. So instead, Christiana smiled a sweet, gentle smile and avoided the order as best she could without giving false hope. "This stay is to center your mind on God's vision for marriage. The good Sisters have studied that with us enough. That is why you are here: to prepare your heart and mind for the commitment of marriage. Nothing more."

The shadow of a smile, a mere ghost of what would have once turned her lips, appeared, that fear still lurking in her eyes. "A pretty lie," she whispered. "But today I choose to believe it. Thank you." With a nod, Jocelyn left the room.

Christiana set the needlework aside and pondered what the future could bring them both. She wasn't comforted by her thoughts.

* * *

Will went to Geoff for advice. Really, there wasn't anyone else to discuss this with. He could hardly go to Prince Edward about it even if the man had told him to consider him a friend above all friends. He found Geoff at home, causing much mayhem in Philippa's household. Once they were alone, he explained the offer, staring at Geoff, pleading silently with him to think of some way for Jocelyn to once more be Will's.

Geoff licked his lips, that familiar sad expression upon his face and his hands on his hips. An often used stance when he'd gambled and had heavy debts.

"No," Will told him. "No, you help me, Geoff. You're smart. You know how to…."

Geoff ran a finger along his upper lip in a thoughtful gesture, then turned to the window and peered out. Finally, he sighed and turned back. The sadness remained. "I'm sorry, Will. This is not a battle you can win. It's not a joust or swordfight. Her father and family have a need you can't meet. I was afraid of that for you…." He crossed his arms. "If the offer is genuine, marry Christiana."

There was a fresh tearing on his heart. "Geoff."

"Hear me out. Aside from Jocelyn, where else would you find such a woman, who knows the entire story and would not treat you differently than she already does? You _know_ Christiana."

"She loves Roland," he reminded Geoff.

Amusement eclipsed some of the sadness in his eyes. "Yes, well…if that's what you want to call it, then we'll call it love. Personally, I'd use an entirely different word to describe what they had. Look, Will, if you consider it logically and in accordance to the unofficial rules of nobility, Christiana is very desirable for a wife for you. Since you cannot have Jocelyn, she will suffice and I believe, outshine other women available for you. Your station--"

"My station! Can I never escape those blasted words?"

"No, never. Impossible. Cannot be done." He sighed. "Station is everything for everyone at every stage of our lives. You have changed your stars, Will, and stepped into an entire new set of rules to live by. Jocelyn is not an option, but Christiana…." He shrugged. "Available. Snap her up before another man sees what a treasure she is. At this point, you have to think with your head and not your stubborn heart."

"I love Jocelyn, Geoff. I can't just betray that by marrying another woman."

"Few are allowed the luxury of love."

"You were."

His lips thinned into a tight line. "My story is complicated and far different from yours. Will, you cannot have Jocelyn. Love the memory of her and marry the good woman set before you. Love may surprise you some day down the road and you could see Christiana in a far different light."

Life wasn't fair. Will was aware of that truth. Days passed. He thought of what Geoff and Avery had said. Christiana was a treasure without a doubt. Roland had even remarked such just a few nights earlier. Could he make a life with her though? Wouldn't her constant presence remind him of Jocelyn?

"It fades eventually, you know."

Glancing up, he found Kate sitting down on the ground beside him. "What does?"

"The pain of love lost."

Her husband had died, he recalled. Was it him she referred to or another? "Will it?" Did he want it to fade away into nothingness? If it did, did that mean the love was somehow less than it should have been?

"When the pain fades, you can look back with fondness at that love of your life. It's still there, but the sting is gone." She drew up her knees, wrapping her arms about them. "When my husband died, I thought I was going to die as well. We were traveling and he fell ill. The fever took him and I wanted to die too. I even prayed to follow him, but that wasn't my path. I never caught that illness. Not a sniffle. I had to keep going whether I wanted to or not. One day, I realized losing him didn't hurt like it had. I could remember him without tears." She turned her head, gaze meeting his square on. "Sometimes things happen we don't understand at first, yet in the end, it all eventually works out."

"I can't have Jocelyn, Kate."

"Who knows what the future holds in store for you?" She shrugged. "Did you ever think you'd be true titled nobility? Look at you now. Geoff once said that life is a journey, always headed forward through calm and storm. The course may change and the weather may grow fowl, but after every storm is a sweet freshness in the air."

"Do you still think of him?"

"All the time."

"Would you marry again -- if it wouldn't endanger your business?"

A faraway expression took root in her eyes. "Under that condition, yes. I won't marry though. My business is hard won and while I may love, I won't marry."

Questions rose. Kate had someone in mind and he was sure it wasn't Wat. "Aren't you afraid loving again would mean losing the memory of your first?"

She shook her head. "He holds a special place in my heart, like Jocelyn has in yours. That can't be covered over and forgotten. It's always there."

Will leaned back on his hands. "So you advise me to marry her as well," he extrapolated from her entire conversation. So far, everyone had been telling him to let go of Jocelyn, which still felt…disloyal. How could he let go of his heart?

Kate nodded. "I think it's the practical course. I'm sorry about Lady Jocelyn. I liked her very much."

"It feels wrong to contemplate marrying another, like I'm going behind her back to a tryst with another."

Without another word, Kate got to her feet, then bent and placed a kiss to his forehead before leaving. He had much to think on and wasn't sure he liked where his thoughts were taking him.

* * *

This course of action had been considered for a long time. While it pained him to leave good friends, Roland knew very well what conclusion Will would reach in the end. The hours of agonizing over Lady Jocelyn and Christiana had one ending that he could see. As Lady Jocelyn was meant for Count Adhemar, Christiana would be the one Will would marry. Even if he didn't yet know it.

The loss of Christiana didn't really pain Roland, not like he knew his friends assumed. Both he and Christiana had known their flirtations were only that and he'd been careful not to compromise her chances of marriage. A difficult resolution when in the moment, yet one he'd clung to. _He_ wouldn't be the one responsible for her losing out on a decent marriage.

Eventually, Will would make the decision and marry her, but Roland planned to be long gone. He didn't want Will to wonder if his wife still flirted with his friend. That sort of wondering could tear a man apart. Besides, he had prospects of his own.

"I'm going with Princess Joan when she starts her journey back to Aquitaine next week." He timed the announcement for after they'd eaten, reasoning that with a heavy meal in the belly, many things seem less difficult. It was only him and Will in their camp, Wat having convinced Kate to take an evening stroll with him. Though Kate seemed impervious to Wat's affections, he kept them upon her in hopes of softening her towards him. "She offered me a place among her embroiderers and I aim to accept."

"You don't have to go," Will said, pausing in that tracing in the dirt he was always doing anymore. Geoff had left a small piece of parchment with letters on them and strict orders for Will to practice each letter every day. He'd been diligent in his study of them so far.

"I want to. She chose me. Besides, it'd be best if I wasn't here when you bring back your bride."

Guilt tread Will's features. "I've not agreed."

"You will. You know there are some things you have to do. Marrying her is one of them."

He tossed away the stick he'd been using to write with. His brows pulled down in anger. "Oh, I will? You're all so sure I'll marry her when all I want is Jocelyn back. Why must I even marry if I can't have her? Can you tell me that?"

"Because you need a wife who knows the noble ways. Look at us, Will. Without Geoff, without Lady Jocelyn. Which of us knows what you should do to avoid offending someone? Our knowledge only goes so far. Can Kate tell you the conversational topics to avoid this week? Can Wat tell you why you can't speak to Lord so and so? Can I?"

An explosive sigh left him. "Can Christiana?"

"Yes. She was raised with Lady Jocelyn. Use your head, _William_. She's an asset you need." Stony silence met the proclamation and Roland shook his head. "Sometimes I think God gave you the lion's share of stubbornness in the world."

Will said nothing.

"You'll do what you like, I've no doubt of that. Just make sure you've weighed all the options before you turn down that offer."

The marriage was inevitable. Roland knew it. Kate and Wat knew it at this point. Roland even wondered if Christiana knew. The only one who didn't know was Will. He turned to go.

"If you do marry her, Will, be good to her."

Roland decided to present himself to Princess Joan a little sooner than he'd planned. By mid-morning, he'd be with her at court.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 2  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

* * *

Jocelyn was certain in both heart and mind that her very soul had died within her the day she realized her father had no intention of allowing her to marry Will. Still, she tried to hope, waiting every day for some letter to bolster her mood. No letter arrived. Until….

Two months and four days into the convent stay, a messenger arrived. Jocelyn tore into the seal, ripping it free, anxious to finally know her fate for certain. As she read, the last spark of hope that had been living inside her grew cold and guttered out. Love was lost. Her heart was a dead thing.

Tears came anew and she found she'd navigated the corridors to her chamber without actually seeing them. Throwing herself upon the bed, Jocelyn cried until she could ring no more tears from her eyes. She refused food and when the time came to meet her intended three days from the receipt of the letter, she was barely strong enough to stand unaided.

Nor did she care. Let Adhemar do what he will.

* * *

As Jocelyn read her letter, her expression fluctuated from hope to despair in seconds. She began to sob, piteous things that indicated her heart was breaking into two. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Jocelyn," Christiana ventured in question, though she knew very well what that letter must contain.

"He's given me to Adhemar." Her voice was listless, weak and she crumpled the letter, tossing it to the floor before hurrying from the room. Minutes later, a door slammed, disturbing the quiet of the convent.

The Sisters were absent from view, taking Jocelyn's crying in a manner suggesting they were familiar with the sort of wailing now ringing the halls. Thoughtful, Christiana bent, picking up the letter and carrying it with her to the chair she'd taken to working her embroidery in. Once she was settled, she smoothed it out and read.

'Dear daughter,

Your first choice is an honorable man and one I would enjoy calling son. However, you are aware that there is a need for the one thing he cannot supply: men. Therefore, I ask that you not hate me, but remember that need will always win out over want. Be a dutiful daughter. The terms with Adhemar are set. You will marry him.'

Christiana stopped reading, turning to her letter from Avery. Her hands shook with her own anxiety.

'Christiana,

The time has come for you to leave our family. A husband has been found for you, one I believe will treat you well and will, during the course of your life together, treasure what you bring to him. You have been a credit to both my household and your father's. The man is young and I've heard him described as handsome. He doesn't abuse his horses or his men, but rather shows a courtesy for all within his sphere.'

Despite her knowledge of how Avery worked, Christiana felt her hopes swelling. One hand rose to press against her chest as she continued reading. She'd never imagined such a man as actually hers. It was too good to be true. There had to be a catch.

'He is relatively new to the stricture of nobility, never having dreamed to call the title his own.'

A younger son perhaps? From a minor noble family? It was possible for a younger son to inherit if the elder son or sons died and for a minor noble to marry the daughter of a successful middle class merchant. It _did_ happen. It wasn't _probable_, but is was possible.

'He is honorable and unafraid to fight for his ideals. At this point, I'm certain your wondering his identity. It was I who began negotiations with him, as he had initially preferred another entirely.'

Tactless and thoroughly Avery. His description however, struck a chord in her mind and she had a horrible feeling she knew what the end of the letter was going to say. No, she thought. Surely Avery didn't offer me to--

'Sir William will make you a most splendid spouse. He has agreed to the terms and, with his man Geoffrey, even completed rigorous negotiations with your father for a separate parcel of land that holds a small house upon it. You won't have to wait for one to be built, only for repairs to be made.

See? I have provided well for you in the end as I promised I would. Surely you won't hate me as Jocelyn will?'

Sir William Thatcher. Hers. Christiana drew in a shaking breath. And with him was Roland. They'd both known their flirtations could go nowhere. A lower class peasant man and a middle class merchant's daughter had no future in this world. But Sir Will hers? How could she even imagine it?

Closing her eyes, she thought of his face. Tried to anyway. Not given to daydreaming about him, she couldn't fix his features in her mind. Scrunching her nose up, she tried harder. Blond hair, expressive eyes…. Perhaps if she thought of his form instead? It was quite pleasing. She and Jocelyn had giggled over it enough. Broad shoulders, slim, muscular…. Still, she couldn't bring him into clarity. She sighed, reopening her eyes.

Rolling the letter back up, she tapped her palm with it. How had he reacted to the offer? Had he seen through Avery's ways to the man beneath? Or had he been blinded to Avery's manipulation?

She didn't dare dream this as truth. It wouldn't surprise her to find Avery sending another letter next week claiming Sir Will had cried off. Christiana shook her head. She'd better comfort Jocelyn and put all thoughts of this letter from her mind. Until the day Sir William stood before her here, she'd assume Avery was lying to her as a part of her punishment for helping Jocelyn.

* * *

The woman waiting for Adhemar could have been Jocelyn's ghost, so silent and pale she was. He didn't miss how two of the nuns supported her or how she seemed ready to keel over at any second. Adhemar found himself glancing about, thinking someone was playing a prank upon him. This couldn't be Lady Jocelyn!

Yet it was. Striding to her, he tipped her chin up, surprised when she didn't jerk away. He'd expected such. Her gaze was calm and blank, bloodshot from crying. Her face was puffy, a distinct reddish cast to her pert nose. What made him draw in a harsh breath however, was the realization that she was far thinner than she'd been when he'd last seen her. She couldn't afford the loss of weight. It made her appear gaunt and drawn.

Dear God, he thought. She's broken.

The idea of Jocelyn broken was met with mixed feelings. He'd never intended that to happen. Despite his words to William Thatcher, he'd rather liked her bold manner and obvious temper. He'd also thought of her as an exception in that rule of women he'd mentioned.

Her bloodless lips parted. "My heart will never mend."

He had to strain to hear her whisper and snorted. "Don't be so dramatic." That's all this was, yes? A way to try and make him feel guilty? She used theatrics. However, he'd not thought her such an exemplary actress…. "Everything mends in time. Even _your_ broken heart."

Alarm rang inside him. She made no response to his words, nothing outward to show she'd even heard him. No scorn, sadness, or anger. Nothing. Troubled by that, he released her chin, turning to Germaine.

"See that her things are loaded into the wagon. We leave immediately after."

He watched her as they waited. The nuns didn't release her for a single second. Very…troubling. Where was her wrath? He'd looked fondly towards weathering it. Where was that bloom of emotion on her cheeks? She remained pale and wan, barely acknowledging what was going on about her and when her trunks were loaded onto the wagon he'd brought for that purpose, Adhemar swung back up onto his horse.

"Come, Jocelyn. Let us be about our journey home." He waited for her to approach so that his men could lift her up to sit behind him. Seconds ticked by. She raised her gaze to meet his, brow furrowing slightly as though she didn't understand.

He'd planned a swift beginning to their journey, a brisk ride along the road, for he knew she adored such things. He'd wanted to show her that he'd still accommodate her on some matters; still give her some measure of freedom. Adhemar wouldn't hold Thatcher against her.

"Jocelyn," he repeated, hating that he had to do so. He wasn't a man who liked to say things twice. Besides, it wasn't as though he'd continued his pursuit of her after London. She had no reason to be in a snit over that. Contrary to the belief of some, he knew when he was well and truly bested, however much it pained him to accept it. He'd been well into plans of retreat when her father had contacted him. No, it wasn't Adhemar who'd insisted that the contract drawn up be pushed through to completion. It was all Avery.

Once it had been clear to Adhemar that Sir William Thatcher was being denied the prize, he hadn't seen any sense in setting Jocelyn aside. Someone may as well marry her and why not him? After all, he'd sustained injuries in fighting for her, more than her newly nobled lover had that was for sure. He didn't see Thatcher struggling to keep from limping after a long day. He'd agreed to the terms with far less final negotiations than he normally would have begun, for Avery had already sweetened the pot considerably. The wanting for Adhemar's connections had spurred Avery into adding more to Jocelyn's dowry.

Peering at her more closely, he saw her chest rising and falling faster and faster, her breaths panting. She gasped for air. One of her hands raised to her brow even as her eyelids fluttered shut.

Adhemar was off his horse and to her, catching her unconscious form just when her head would have struck the ground. Slipping an arm beneath her shoulders, he raised her to a sitting position. Her head lolled against his arm and shoulder, the cap she'd been wearing slipping to the ground. Some supports the nuns were, he decided with a scowl, letting her just fall like that.

"She's not eaten in three days, my lord," one of the nuns offered in a soft voice.

"Why the devil not," he snapped, working his other arm under Jocelyn's knees and lifting her as he stood. He didn't wait for whatever answer they'd give him, striding into the convent and finding a chair to sit in with Jocelyn upon his lap. "Her maid is still present? Then fetch her to me."

* * *

Christiana had been afraid of something like this happening. Jocelyn seemed intent on fading away into nothingness. Sometimes, Christiana wondered how life would be different if her lady married Sir Will. The wondering was fancy and she always pushed it aside as such. At the open door of the room, she paused, smoothing her skirt and mentally composing herself before stepping inside. Dealing with Count Adhemar usually required all of one's wits and temper. Even when he'd used her to attempt to woo Jocelyn she'd needed to watch herself carefully to remain on that fine line before him.

A simple meal was laid out on the table, Jocelyn awake once more and sitting in a chair. She looked ready to cry. Adhemar was facing away from Christiana, his hands flat on the tabletop, his voice low. At her approach, he turned, frustration in his eyes.

"Make her eat, or I will. I will not carry an invalid all the way to my home. She'll keep up her strength or I'll force her and she won't like my methods." The words were spoken through gritted teeth.

Spying a bench by the wall, Christiana carried it to Jocelyn's side and sat, making note of the food on her trencher. A hearty portion of everything and very nearly the amount she'd eat under normal circumstances. She smiled. "Just a few bites, my lady. For strength to travel."

"I cannot." Jocelyn shook her head. "It has no taste and I…I have no appetite. My stomach won't stop churning about."

Behind her, Adhemar made a noise somewhere between a growl and a snort. She clucked her tongue, ignoring him as she took a sliver of cheese and ate it. "He wouldn't want you to harm yourself." Taking another sliver, she nibbled again. "Mmm. This is that cheese you liked, that one made near here," she coaxed.

"I care not what Adhemar wants."

Aware that one was watching and listening, Christiana pressed on. "Not him, my lady. Sir Will. He'd be distressed to hear you starve yourself. He'd hate to think of you in anything less than robust health."

Now Jocelyn raised her gaze to meet Christiana's. There was a flicker of acceptance in her eyes. Blinking twice, she nodded. "You're right. I…." Slender fingers reached for the bread. "A few bites."

Those few bites became a meal as Jocelyn fed the hunger of her body until she'd eaten more in one sitting than she had in a very long time.

"I hate to leave you, Christiana. You take such good care of me."

"You make it easy."

"Not recently," she replied with a tiny, rueful smile. "Have you word?"

Christiana struggled to hide the truth and pretended to wipe crumbs from her lap so that her hair hid her face. "No. It will come in time."

Her hand was grasped, held tight, Jocelyn's voice a whisper so low that Christiana could barely hear it. "I pray he doesn't betray you as he has me."

And then Jocelyn was shoving back her chair and standing, accepting the arm Adhemar came to put around her. Once, she would have rebelled, but now her manner was meek. Despondent. He led her from the room and Christiana was left thinking on those last words. Perhaps Jocelyn's father _had_ betrayed her. But if he'd betray his own daughter, then why give her maid a great gift in return?

It had to be a trick. There was no way Avery would give her to Sir William. He'd sooner toss her into the street.

* * *

Jocelyn was well aware how her behavior would look to Count Adhemar. She didn't care. She'd spoken the truth to Christiana: food had no taste anymore and she'd no desire to eat. She'd only eaten back at the nunnery for two reasons. The first was that Christiana had been right. Will wouldn't want her to starve to death. The second was to please Christiana. Christiana would worry if she didn't see her eat and if she worried, how would Jocelyn appease her worries once they were miles apart?

It had been easier to eat, then let herself be led out to the horses.

She prayed her father would be kind to Christiana and remember how well she'd served their family. It was only recently that she'd done anything wrong in his eyes. Until then, Christiana had been a model maid. Jocelyn wanted Christiana happy, even when she herself was miserable. She wouldn't begrudge her sunshine.

Jocelyn turned her face against Adhemar's back so that she looked at the other side of the road. Slightly behind on this side, the herald Germaine rode. She sighed. If it weren't for the circumstances, she'd enjoy this ride. Adhemar set a lively pace, moving them swiftly towards his home. A place she dreaded. She very much feared what life in his household would be like. Jocelyn remembered well his very public words on the role of women.

I am to be forever caged, she thought. A prized possession to be shown off.

Did she care anymore? No. At this moment, Jocelyn didn't care what happened to her. It'd be easier to die than to live with the knowledge that she was parted from the one she loved most in the world.

* * *

It was strange to see Jocelyn so despondent. Was this proof that she'd truly loved Thatcher? Adhemar eyed her for a moment, considering the evidence. She'd a marked loss of appetite and a disinterest for everything going on around her. She was grieving for William Thatcher and grieving hard.

The tactician in him analyzed the situation. He'd assumed previously that Jocelyn had been swayed by Thatcher's pretty face and odd manner. The younger man had stuck out among the other knights in everything he did. There'd been no denying he was different. Not being a woman who liked ordinary, she'd naturally been drawn to the novelty of him. Adhemar'd assumed she'd become tired of Thatcher and of her games.

He'd never considered her feelings to be genuine. That error nagged at him now. He had to completely re-think his plan of action regarding her. The woman before him wasn't the same woman he'd verbally sparred with. Hell, this woman hardly responded to anything at all. She was too wrapped up in her private pain.

"Have you slept at all these past weeks," he enquired with raised brows.

Lifting one shoulder in a listless shrug, Jocelyn sighed before speaking. "How can I sleep when I see Will every time I close my eyes?"

The statement was dramatic, yet if real emotion was present, it was undoubtedly the truth. Even Adhemar was familiar with the force of such emotion.

Germaine approached, bearing a cup in his hands. With a nod at Adhemar, he bowed slightly to Jocelyn. "My lady. Some wine to warm you before you turn in."

Raising her gaze from the fire, she studied Germaine a moment, then took the cup and sipped. "It's very good."

"I made it for you myself."

Adhemar raised his brows higher in approval. Sometimes, Germaine really was the very best of his servants. In his opinion, Jocelyn could benefit from a sleeping draught every night for weeks. He himself frequently used the drink, suffering from insomnia with regularity.

After a few more swallows, Jocelyn frowned. "You made this?"

"Herbs for flavor, my lady."

She paused, then finished the drink and handed back the cup. "Somehow I suspect I'll be feeling sleepy rather soon and will sleep deeply all night." Her gaze met Adhemar's. "Your doing?"

Germaine slipped away as silently as he'd approached.

Adhemar crossed his arms. "Entirely Germaine's. He'd take as good care of you as Christiana did if you let him. When we reach home, his wife will be maiding you. She's a quiet girl. You can train her as you please. Besides, would I contrive to drug you?"

"Yes."

He chuckled. "Perhaps if I'd thought of it first," he admitted. "Don't fight sleep, Jocelyn. The journey to my home is long and arduous. I'd not have you succumbing to illness. You can rest. I've enough men to guard us as we sleep. You'll be safe in your slumbers."

"Will they keep me safe from you?"

"Do you need safety from me?"

"Will they," she repeated.

"I will never harm you."

"Do you really think you're not already harming me?" She got to her feet and stepped towards him.

Adhemar leaned back on his elbows and stared up at her. "In your mind perhaps. I've been courteous to you, seen to your needs. I make allowances for your presence. How is that harming you?"

"You've taken me from my heart."

And he now understood. She wasn't referring to the journey, but rather to her lost love. Did _she_ not understand her father's part in their coming union? "Take your night's rest. Your world may seem different in the morning."

Her hands grasped her long skirts, raised them a few inches in preparation of walking away. "I very much doubt that."

* * *

She was learning far more about Adhemar than she'd ever wished to know. He'd a well trained staff who never did anything without his approval first. She'd seen it in action. His men deferred every tiny little thing to him, much like lords to a king. Indeed, he _was_ a king of his domain, wielding his power in the manner of a small child -- one often given to temper-tantrums.

Jocelyn settled down in the small tent Adhemar had ordered raised for her, clutching the blanket Germaine had given her tight to her. She was grateful for the warmth, as there was a definite chill in the air. The mild fall they'd enjoyed thus far would soon be a hard winter she suspected. Adhemar had talked to her earlier of rewarding his peasants for the profitable harvest when they reached his home. He'd had a letter while still in London that praised the fields this year.

Strange to think of him as rewarding anyone beneath him in station for anything. She'd have thought he'd be more likely to ignore the plight of others. He'd laughed at her then, an uproarious sound. Did she think him a poor manager of his lands, he'd asked. How did she think he kept his wealth?

In all truth, she'd assumed he simply looted like mad after battles. While there was certainly a portion of that, she had to allow that he was fully capable of managing his estates.

With a sigh, Jocelyn closed her eyes and fell into a deep drugged sleep.

* * *

Kate did what she had to do. She, Wat, Roland, and Geoff had agreed. With Roland leaving, it'd be just Kate and Wat for awhile, until Geoff found them a new herald, and Will needed them more than he ever had before. The journey into nobility was half as hard as the journey within it. Geoff was clear about that. They should do whatever they had to do to convince Will to accept Christiana.

Why? Because she knew the story in it's entirety and wasn't the sort of woman to treat him differently. Because she knew those things Will would need to know as the days turned to weeks, months and finally years. Because having a wife was one more way to be accepted by the nobility. Marrying Lady Jocelyn had been a dream, yet marrying Christiana fully accepted. She was closer to his new class than Lady Jocelyn and therefore acceptable. No one would talk of that marriage.

Geoff made sure they all understood.

She smiled a sad smile. Dear Geoff, so worried about leaving them by themselves. He wished to remain with them, he claimed, but had to go home. He'd duties he'd neglected for months.

"Kate."

Looking up, she found Geoff watching her. "Geoff." They were alone.

"I'd not thought I'd have to tell you goodbye more than once. I'd not anticipated returning for any length of time."

Crossing her arms, she turned her glance to the ground. How often had she dreamed of him? Discovering he'd a wife had shattered her idle daydreams, making their interactions seem awkward once the excitement and drama had wound down. "I know." His goodbye from before was heavy on her mind. She recalled the passionate words on how he'd never forget her. They were embarrassing now. She too had never anticipated meeting again.

His hands gripped her arms, squeezed with a light touch. "If things were different, you know I'd look your way. You can't help but know it. Things aren't different though and I've Philippa to consider. She _is_ my wife."

"You don't have to say it. I know very well --" Kate took a steadying breath and changed the subject. "Have arrangements all been made?"

For a moment, he looked like he'd protest the change, but then his lips tightened into a thin line and he nodded, his voice hard and cool. "Yes, Kate, the arrangements have been made. You're traveling to the convent where Christiana waits first thing in the morning and the man I've found for the herald position will meet you at your new residence. Everything is ready."

"We'll do our part."

"I've never had any doubt about that."

She'd never planned on falling for Geoff. It had just happened. How much better it would have been if Wat had been the man on her heart lately!

"This is goodbye, Kate. I don't intend to see any of you ever again. My life will go a far different direction than yours." Yet he didn't move, standing there still, watching her with the tiniest bit of regret in his eyes. "This decision --"

"There's no choice for you to make, Geoff. You made it long before you ever met me. Go already."

After long moments, he turned and walked away.

Kate put him from her mind. It would be best if she concentrated on her duties. She'd her business to work and Will to help. There was no room for mooning over a man she'd no business considering to begin with. She'd been as foolish as Lady Jocelyn. Both of them should have known full well they'd no future with the man they wanted.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 3  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.  
Notes: Thank you for the kind reviews!

* * *

Conversation was slow in coming. Jocelyn seemed determined to be silent this night. Adhemar watched her, trying to think of something that would jolt her into speech.

"I attempted to barter for Christiana for you during negotiations. Your father wouldn't release her."

Jocelyn stared at the fire, her fingers buried in her cloak fabric.

Was she pretending to be deaf or was she really that lost in her own thoughts? "At least thank me for the attempt," he snapped.

Finally, her glance flicked to him. It stayed upon him only seconds before returning to the fire. "I never expected Christiana to come with me, nor would you have attempted such an effort unless it could benefit you in some way."

"And what benefit do you imagine a plotting maid would be to me? She did confess her part."

"Of much benefit if you thought you could persuade her to plot for _you_."

He didn't deny the mild-toned accusation. The thought had crossed his mind. However, he'd really bartered for the maid merely as a comfort for Jocelyn. Adhemar had never intended Jocelyn to cut ties with all she'd held dear. Despite Christiana's role in the Thatcher affair, he'd been willing to allow her in his home for Jocelyn's sake. With many restrictions on her, of course. He wasn't daft.

"I thought only of your comfort, Jocelyn."

She made a choking noise, her features scrunching up. "You dare claim such when my comfort is the farthest thing from me by _your_ actions." she cried with more emotion than he'd witnessed in days. She shook her head and got to her feet, fleeing into the small tent he'd once more instructed his men to raise. The sounds of her tears rang the camp.

Of his men, only Germaine ventured close. "Would your lady require anything else this evening, my lord?"

Adhemar eyed him in slight disbelief. "Tell me, Germaine, do I look as though I have any idea what Jocelyn requires?"

Germaine froze. "No, my lord." He flushed. "I mean, yes, my lord. I mean --"

"Everything I've done, I've done for her comfort and she accuses me of not thinking of her comfort. Does she think I care to raise a tent in the middle of travels when I'd rather spend as little time as possible on the journey home? A tent is more time spent breaking and setting up camp." Resting his hands on the ground, he leaned back on them. "And if I'm going to camp with a tent and bed, I'm going to damn well sleep in them myself. Fetch the priest." Germaine had begun to walk away before he reconsidered. It was late and Jocelyn wouldn't be the best of bedmates in her current state. He was more likely to strangle her than anything else. "Wait. Fetch him at dawn. Jocelyn and I shall wed before we start out for the day."

Adhemar stayed awake late considering that plan. Yes, he'd wed her and she'd have the entire day to mentally prepare herself. Surely by nightfall she'd be prepared to be his wife?

* * *

With dawn had come a marriage blessing by the priest in Adhemar's garrison. The move hadn't surprised her in the slightest. She'd said what had been expected of her, accepted the Holy kiss, and tried to imagine Will in Adhemar's place. All day she dreaded nightfall. Adhemar wasn't going to accept a chaste bed. She was well aware of that. He wasn't the sort of man to do so.

By the time they were alone in the tent, tension gripped her shoulders and wouldn't release her. She watched him flip the covers back on her right. A heavy sigh left his lips.

"Did you bleed for him, Jocelyn? Did it mean anything to you?"

Drawing her knees up, she rested her chin upon them, one hand smoothing the fabric of her shift so that there were no folds about her feet. "Does it matter to you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because if you bled, you weren't given to seduction. It means that you minded your virtue. It means that despite your outward boldness, there was a hint of propriety in you…." Another sigh, his wide shoulders lifting in a shrug. "Yes, wife, I matters to me."

She stared up at him a moment, then nodded. "Yes. I minded my virtue like a good woman should. I'd not considered that life isn't always fair. I'd thought Will and I would never be parted. The force of our love would keep us together." Turning her attention from him, she focused it on the blanket. In a minute she'd close her eyes, keeping them closed until morning. Let Adhemar do his will. She knew what was expected of her. "I won't fight you," she told him. "I know my duty. It's been pounded into me since birth." Jocelyn couldn't help the tinge of bitterness to the words, squeezing her eyes shut.

She heard the rustling of cloth and then the bed dipped, his body against hers. "Really. What _is_ your duty?"

"To bear children." She unwound her arms from her knees and lay back against the soft pillows. "Sons."

The candle was extinguished and Jocelyn let her mind take her to the place she'd most rather be. With Will.

* * *

Never in his life had Adhemar had as unsatisfactory a sexual encounter as he'd just experienced with Jocelyn. Or rather _on_ Jocelyn, for his wife was like a corpse beneath him. The only thing keeping him from feeling like he really was desecrating the dead was the slight sound of her tears. She couldn't quite hide them.

It wasn't a pleasant experience. The reality of having her was nothing like his imaginings. He lay awake long after she'd succumbed to slumber, unable to banish the uneasy sensation that to continue in this manner with her was to drive the last remnants of the woman he'd been intrigued by away. He was able to pinpoint the exact moment she'd slipped into her own mind and he'd ceased to exist for her.

It was maddening.

Adhemar liked his women to participate even if it was to try to take his eyes out with their nails. As he laid beside her in the bed, he realized that as it stood now, he'd no desire to touch her again. Not if she was going to be lifeless. He wanted her fire, her passion, and her attention.

But I need a son, he told himself.

"Can't get a son if you can't stand touching her," he whispered into the dark.

So what did he do now? Contrary to what many people believed of him, he wasn't a monster. He did care for Jocelyn in his own way. Sighing, Adhemar rolled over onto his side. Quite a quandary.

* * *

Robert of Anjou paced the Great Hall of his nephew Adhemar's home. Adhemar wouldn't be pleased to find them still in residence though he'd certainly understand once the circumstances were made known. Hopefully.

"Will you sit down, brother? You dizzy me with your pacing." Adhemar's mother, Katherine, glanced up from her game of chess. She was beating his wife Anne. Anne was no more pleased about it than usual, a frown pulling down her brow and lips set in a hard line. "Adhemar will be along in his own sweet time."

"And we must always dance attendance on Adhemar," Anne murmured, rolling her eyes and quickly moving one piece. Robert could see she'd reached the point of making stupid moves just to have the game over with.

"You'd do well to remember that, girl," Katherine reminded her in a sharp tone, fingers pouncing on the piece Anne had left open. "Your life depends upon him now, doesn't it?"

"So you remind us every day he's been gone."

Robert ran one hand through his hair. "Anne, Katherine. Enough. We all know how things stand and soon he will as well."

It was humiliating for him, a grown man, to have to beg his nephew for shelter and food. Unfortunately, Robert knew he was too old to ride the tournament circuit. Doing so and likely losing in a spectacular fashion wouldn't do Anne or their children any good. So he'd beg. He'd humble himself before Adhemar and hope their plight was understood. Surely even Adhemar would realize how catastrophic a burned manor could be.

Robert paused in his pacing. If he let himself, he could still hear the screams of those who'd been caught by the fire; smell the scent of burning wood and flesh. He could see the line of soldiers on the hill watching his family and the peasants fleeing. He'd not thought they'd actually burn the manor. His refusal to entrench himself in politics was a sore point with some, but Robert had no desire to walk that line. He'd enough politics within the family to deal with and didn't care that his lands were right on the line between France and Aquitaine. The soldiers hadn't liked that he'd given the other side shelter and food only nights earlier, despite the fact that he was willing to give them shelter and food as well.

His household had been given a short while to begin to flee, not nearly long enough to pack their treasures. All of his wealth…gone. Well, the land was worth something he supposed, yet all of the portable things, the household goods, the cloth, the furniture…. Burned. He'd braved the soldiers the next day and found his home to be a pile of smoldering ashes still too hot to approach with comfort.

Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw Katherine triumphant and Anne sulking. How she despised being pressed into performing as Katherine's companion! What could she do though? With Adhemar gone, Katherine overlooked the manor in his stead, causing all sorts of trouble for stewards.

"Anne, why don't you go find Amelie and remind her Adhemar is arriving soon?"

A spasm of weariness crossed her features as she stood and crossed to him. "You mean, why don't I mentally prepare myself for seeing him again?" Her voice was soft, her hands stretching out and up to smooth his shirt across his chest.

Exactly. This was not going to be easy.

* * *

Jocelyn was glad to have their journey completed. Traveling such a distance as they had tired her out. A few times she'd ridden in the wagon, but Adhemar had, more often than not, insisted she ride on his horse with him. She was quite ready to rest and ease into life as mistress of his manor. Walking into the hall, she was surprised to hear him mutter an inventive curse.

"Uncle Robert," he fairly snarled, his hand tightening on her arm so tightly that she gasped and attempted to wrench away. Instead, he eased his grip, hand sliding down to grasp hers and draw her forward to meet those waiting.

The resemblance between Adhemar and his uncle Robert was uncanny. They were of similar height and build, with the same slightly curled dark hair and arrogant demeanor. The only differences readily apparent were their eye color and the fact that Robert smiled far easier than Adhemar did. On closer inspection, Jocelyn noted a sprinkling of silver in Robert's thick hair.

What on earth was the cause of the tension between the two men? Jocelyn found her curiosity piqued.

Robert smiled, a quick flash of his teeth, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "So this is the beautiful, accomplished Lady Jocelyn. Nephew, you've been remiss. You never mentioned you'd captured an angel in human form."

Despite herself, Jocelyn was charmed. She relaxed.

Adhemar, however, was not relaxed. He spoke through gritted teeth. "Angel, Uncle? More like a devil at times. Have a care, she bites."

"Does she? You must provoke her, then. Angels can be fearsome creatures, as well as breathtakingly gorgeous."

Adhemar cleared his throat. "Where is my lady aunt? _Here_ I trust?"

"You mean Anne?"

"Have you taken another wife?"

Robert's snort reminded Jocelyn greatly of Adhemar's usual one. "She's gathering our children. Amelie was determined to wear her prettiest gown to see her favorite cousin."

Adhemar opened his mouth and Jocelyn waited for whatever cutting thing he'd say. It never materialized. His aunt chose that moment to descend the stairs at the back of the hall with two children in her arms and two running before her.

Jocelyn hadn't expected his aunt to be close to her in age. Nor had she expected the vision of blonde loveliness that crossed to them.

"Adhemar! Adhemar!" The elder girl launched herself at Adhemar, apparently certain he'd catch her.

He did, scooping her from the air in a smooth movement and hugging her to him, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Amelie!" His features relaxed into a genuine grin, the first Jocelyn could recall ever seeing from him. It made a difference. He seemed younger, more attractive. "I swear you grow taller each moment that passes."

"You shouldn't swear," Amelie informed him. "It's not proper in front of a lady, you know."

"Well, I believe you're right. Where are my manners?"

Who was this man Jocelyn saw beside her? Could it be that sarcastic, arrogant Adhemar liked children? It seemed so. He was gentle with his young cousin, affectionate and kind. That changed however in seconds with the first words his aunt spoke.

"They're probably out in the stables as usual. You look fit, Adhemar. We were certain you'd bear a limp from that last joust."

"Anne." Robert's voice was sharp, but his wife only smiled a too sweet smile.

"I express relief, husband. He's recovered in full from that humiliating physical defeat in London."

Adhemar set Amelie on the ground. When he stood, his gaze was once more cold and hard. "Your concern is noted…_Aunt_."

Glancing from face to face, Jocelyn tried to decipher the reason for the animosity between them, but there was nothing obvious. An old grievance probably.

"This is Jocelyn." His words were directed towards Anne. "As long as you're in my home, you'll defer to her."

"I hope you've told Katherine," Anne said, shifting the two children in her arms and setting the older one down.

"Mother will accept my order."

"Oh yes, like she always does." One brow arched.

This didn't promise an easy settling into her new life. She'd met his overly friendly, yet charming Uncle Robert -- who kept watching her --, his hostile Aunt Anne, and his cousin Amelie who was behaving more like his child than his cousin. Heavens, what was his mother like?

"Dear Jocelyn," Robert addressed her. "Don't mind us. We're rude and ill-mannered to let personal squabbles sour your first moments as mistress in this hall. Anne, put Sophie down so I may introduce you properly. We shame our nephew, behaving in such a manner."

Anne obeyed instantly, finally actually looking at Jocelyn. Her features softened in seconds, a kind light growing in her eyes. She wasn't quite as young as she had appeared. There were tiny lines at the corners of her eyes. Jocelyn decided she was likely Adhemar's age, still a young bride for his uncle.

"Jocelyn, may I present my lady wife Anne and our four children? Piers is our eldest, Amelie the one clutching Adhemar's leg, Ward and Sophie beside Anne. We're greatly pleased to put a face to the name mentioned in letters these long months."

"You've been _here_ all that time, Uncle?" Adhemar reached for the clasp on Jocelyn's cloak, unfastening it and sweeping it from her to hand it to a waiting servant. His displeasure with the idea colored the words and he instructed the children to go play. Amelie was reluctant until he promised to find them later.

Robert and Anne exchanged a glance. "We'll pay for our keep," Robert stated in a flat tone.

Adhemar's derisive snort was loud. "Well I should hope so with six of you here."

"Adhemar," Jocelyn couldn't help but exclaim. While she knew many did charge their relatives for visits, it wasn't proper to mention it this way.

When the children had disappeared from the hall, he replied, "I don't jest Jocelyn. Family pays bed and board for visits. My father charged more than most families deem acceptable and since the fee isn't cheap, I assume Uncle and I have business to discuss as to the cause of this extended stay. Anne will show you about the manor and take you to meet my mother."

When the men had gone, Anne sighed. "Neatly done as always. We'll see her first. I hope you fare better with her than I ever have. Come Jocelyn, Katherine will be waiting." Under her breath and barely loud enough to be heard she added, "Like a spider in a web."

* * *

"After all the trouble his _Venus_ put him through…."

Kate rubbed the aching spot between her brows. Wat had said those words so many times these past days that she could mouth them word for word. With Roland and Geoff gone and Will on the way up to the convent, she'd been bearing the brunt of Wat's frustrated rantings. It wasn't that he didn't like Christiana, she decided. He liked her fine. The problem was that he thought Will had been ill-used by Jocelyn's father in the end.

She thought so as well, yet kept that opinion to herself. Jocelyn's father was the schemer of all schemers, plotting hard to gain an advantage.

"…he ends up with her maid. Nice." He practically bit off the last word, smacking a tent peg so hard with the hammer that it actually went into the hard ground. They'd been trying to put up the tent since Will had left with little success. The ground resisted their efforts.

"Plans fall apart."

"Right." He snorted. "And _she_ broke Roland's heart--"

It was Kate's turn to snort. Why on earth had Wat out of all of them assumed Roland loved Christiana? It had been obvious to everyone else that there'd just been a bit of flirtation and romantic play. Nothing serious.

He stood. "Did you just snort at me?"

"Christiana hardly broke his heart." Kate held out the next peg.

"I beg to differ." Wat snatched it from her and strode to the other side of the front flap.

"You can beg all you like, you're still wrong. And," her brows lifted, "You sound entirely too much like Geoff. 'Beg to differ'? Hah!"

Pointing a finger at her, he lowered his brows, annoyance playing upon his features. "You take that back, Kate. I'm nothing like that silly scribe."

She laughed, but it was one with little humor in it. "I will not take it back. Listen to yourself. You sound pretentious."

"Oh, now who's using fancy words?"

"I use it to show you how silly you sound, begging to differ and all."

After a round of curses, the final peg was in the ground. Wat looked up at her from his crouched position by the peg. He looked tired and cold. "Do you think she'll be a good lady?"

"Who? Christiana?" Kate bent, lifted their bedrolls and carried them into the tent. There was no sense in sleeping outside in the elements when there was a tent available. Besides, it cold and Wat gave off a wonderful amount of body heat.

"Duh," he said, following her inside and helping to spread out the makeshift beds. "Have you not been listening to me, Kate?"

"I should think she will be. Lady Jocelyn always claimed Christiana was efficient in her duties. She was schooled with her. I'd think she'd be decent. Surely she can't be worse than some I've seen."

"Don't utter those words again." Wat opened one bag and brought out a partial loaf of bread. Part was handed to her. "You say that and it'll happen. She'll be horrible."

They ate their snack in silence and then he looked over at her.

"We could combine our beds…."

Kate stared at him for one breath, then flung a hand out to her side, grasping her bag. "I still have a couple of those apples here somewhere….." Finding the largest one, she held it out to him with a smile.

Wat's fingers covered hers on it. She thought his gaze was a bit sad, though it could be the low light filtering in through the still open flap. He took the fruit, held it in one hand. "Do you have to do that every time I suggest anything?"

"Do what?" That wasn't sadness she realized, her hand grasping the second apple. It was the slow simmering of anger.

"Make that face."

"What face?" While she could deny it all she liked, Kate knew she had to be showing her unwillingness to have anything resembling a romantic relationship with him.

"The careful one that tells me you think I'll attack you or something. The one that tells me you think I'm repulsive."

"I don't…." Kate ducked her head. He was very angry, fingers tight on the apple. "You're not repulsive, Wat and I can assure you I don't think that at all."

"You do. You make that face. What is it you think I'll do if you come right out and tell me you're not interested? I'm a grown man. It's not like I've never been turned down before. I _am_ familiar with unrequited love."

"I'm sorry, Wat --" She tossed the second apple back into her bag and wondered if she should just sleep out in the cold after all.

"No, I am. I thought we were friends Kate."

"We _are_ friends."

"Then can't a friend offer to be chivalrous to a woman who's shivering she's so cold?"

"Chivalrous." Kate gaped at him.

"You know, to be like Will."

"What has he to do with what you think I'm thinking about you?"

He sputtered and finally, setting the apple aside, said, "I was trying to be like him and offer to sleep closer to you to keep you warm in the night. You didn't let me finish, making that face instead and throwing an apple at me like I'm some trained animal who can be distracted with food!"

"You don't want the apple then?"

"I didn't say that."

They stared at each other for a long moment. Kate considered his words. "I accept the offer of warmth -- if it still stands. It's cold and I'd like to not freeze before morning. It was thoughtful of you to think of that." Crossing her arms, she swallowed hard. "I don't mean to make a face. It's just…I don't want to deal with any man on such a personal level right now. The last thing I need is a lover."

""It does stand." He took a bite of the apple and when he'd swallowed it added, "I know you're not interested in anything deeper than friendship, but can I love you anyway, from afar?"

The request startled her and she opened her mouth two times before finding a reply. "Courtly, you mean? Like those silly tales Lady Jocelyn liked?"

Wat nodded.

"I don't mind if you love me Wat, but I don't think I can ever return it the same way."

Her reply seemed to satisfy him, however, for he nodded again. There was silence for several minutes as he polished off the fruit and then, "You still got that other apple?"

Kate handed it over.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 4  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

* * *

"I apologize for arriving so late --" He should have waited until morning, shouldn't he? It was too late in the evening for this, long after dusk. Likely he'd woken everyone up. He was doing this the wrong way, wasn't he? Too bad Geoff was no longer with him or he could have asked. Was it too obvious he just wanted this done with and for life to continue on?

The prioress's smile was wry. "As if I cannot imagine why a young man would hurry to see his bride."

Will swallowed hard. "My man will be here in the morning just after dawn with a wagon for Christiana's things. Are they packed?"

"Yes, my lord. She's been ready for days for your arrival."

"Good." What else could he say? Will wracked his brain for some sort of conversation and was willingly distracted by the sight of Christiana coming towards him, accompanied by a single nun. She looked tired, smothering a yawn with one hand. Her hair was slightly mussed, as though she'd already been asleep when he'd arrived, and he noticed she'd neglected the lower tie on her surcoat. Upon reaching his side, she made a bow with her head.

"My lord."

For the first time, Will really looked at her and saw a woman he knew next to nothing about. He could speak of Jocelyn's favorite things, her preferences, but Christiana was a mystery. What he knew of her had come mostly from Roland. His parting advice had been thus, 'Remember that she's a woman, not a goddess.'

Christiana met his gaze for seconds before lowering her own gaze and clasping her hands together. "I'm ready."

Ready? Oh right. Their wedding. He turned his attention back to the prioress.

"Have you a priest here to marry us?"

* * *

Christiana was surprised by the request. She'd assumed they'd travel so his father could be present.

The prioress departed on her task. Immediately, Sister Rachel -- who'd woken Christiana -- stepped close to the door, giving them a small measure of privacy to speak should they choose to do so. Christiana liked Sister Rachel. The news that Sir William was waiting below at this late hour had been gently given, the young woman helping Christiana to dress, though there'd been no time to do anything about her tangled hair.

She touched a hand to it, wishing she'd not neglected to braid it before slipping into bed. What would he think of her for that? She must look a sight!

Will leaned closer. "My father is currently a guest in Geoff's wife's house. She graciously consented to that until we can move him into our own house."

"What of his rooms?" Hadn't he had a couple rooms there in London? She saw his jaw tighten.

"He has none. I'd not the heart to tell him he'd been evicted, so I told him he's to come live with us. We'll take care of him."

The move wasn't unexpected though it was unusual. Christiana nodded. After years away from a parent he'd greatly loved, it didn't surprise her that Sir William wished to care for his now blind father.

"We'll make our home this winter, then collect him at the tournament finals. Philippa adores him and she'll do anything _Geoff_ asks if he says it in verse."

She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. "Where is our house located?" She'd no idea where her father had obtained property; hadn't been aware of it. She'd little contact with her family for a long time.

Before he could answer, the prioress had returned with the priest.

This was it. This was the moment that changed her life forever. No more would she be a middle class maid, but a lady, with all of the responsibility that came with it. Her stomach did nervous flips inside her, a sweat dampening her palms.

"Clasp hands." The priest smiled.

It was a slight comfort to realize that Sir William's hands were as clammy as hers. He wasn't as calm as he appeared. In moments, the vows had been spoken with the prioress and a few nuns as witnesses. Was the moment following awkward or was it only in her mind?

He held one of her hands in his until the door to the chamber Jocelyn had used was closed. He was nobility and she was now too, so of course the grandest guest room had been prepared, right? Will released her.

"I weighed the options for you Christiana, really I did. He'd planned to leave you in his house for life if I didn't choose you. He was going to leave off finding you a husband entirely. It was unfair to you."

Christiana merely nodded, moving towards the bed. He didn't know Avery well enough to know those words were another negotiation tactic, one used against Will's sense of honor and right, his romantic views on life. Aye, Avery had grasped Will's character well enough. He'd believed the lie. She had no doubt Avery had several men lined up as potential husbands for her and Will was the best of them.

Not to mention that if he was married, he wouldn't go after Jocelyn again, even if Adhemar died and she was technically free to remarry. He wasn't the sort. He'd honor any vow he took until the very end.

"And selfish as it sounds, I do need a wife with your qualifications. Without…Jocelyn…" he verbally tripped over her name, but continued on as though he hadn't, "and with Geoff gone, I can't navigate this new world I'm in. It was either admit defeat in understanding the rules or marry and I don't admit defeat. I don't retreat if I can see a way not to."

The lie was in his eyes. He wasn't mercenary. A part of him sought to save her -- because he couldn't save Jocelyn she suspected. He was, after all, a credit to the title of 'knight'. Those honorable men in minstrels tales had come to life in this man before her. Jocelyn hadn't been able to believe her good fortune. She'd marveled that grand tales had come to life just for her and that she was blessed.

And now it was Christiana to have the blessing, not Jocelyn.

"I understand," she said with a tiny nod, then bit her lip. She'd have to learn to stop nodding at everything. It wasn't how a lady behaved. In the coming weeks and months, Will would need her to be as ladylike as possible. And it was possible, for she'd observed Jocelyn for years. She'd simply have to put into practice everything she'd seen.

They stared at each other for long moments, him standing at one side of the bed and her at the other. Suddenly, he drew in a sharp breath.

"I can't bed you tonight, Christiana, I just can't. It's not that you're not pretty, because you _are_. You're very pretty."

Even broken up inside, he sought to soothe her vanity, though it was hardly wounded like he thought. She understood all of that.

Will shrugged, a glimmer of helplessness taking root in his eyes. "It's just --"

"You love my lady Jocelyn still."

"As of a little while ago, she's no longer your lady," he reminded her.

"I'll think of her as such for a long time to come." Out of all she knew, he perhaps knew the best the state she now found herself in. New to the noble title. Floundering a bit within it. "Sir Will --"

"Just Will, Christiana. Or William if you like. I'll answer to either and a wife should call her husband by name."

"You should know that I never aspired to this. I didn't ask…"

"I know. Sometimes our stars move all on their own without any input from us on the matter." Reaching down, he flipped the covers back. "We should sleep. It's late already and we need to leave at dawn. Winter is coming fast and we've preparations to make so I'd like to be…" He paused, then shrugged. "home."

To a place that had been a home to neither of them to this point. "Yes."

Still, neither of them moved. Will remained bent, hands flat on the mattress. Christiana hugged herself. What now? The bed looked very wide and conspicuous between them, a reminder of what would eventually transpire. Again, her stomach flipped about in her belly.

"Are you wearing your dress to bed," he asked.

"Oh…" She shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it. I suppose no? I'll be more comfortable in my shift…." Christiana grasped the fabric of her skirts tight in her hands. Would he take that the wrong way? She wasn't wanton, yet her words could be taken as such, couldn't they? "I mean physically it's hard to sleep comfortably in a bed with all these layers of skirts."

His gaze dipped down. "I would think it would be. They tangle, yes?"

She breathed a sigh of relief that he'd understood her meaning. "Yes." Christiana reached for the tie at her waist and stopped, holding the ends of the ribbon. "Would you turn around?"

"Oh, of course." Standing tall, he turned away. His coat was removed and set on the chair.

Christiana turned her back to him. Surely she could manage to strip to her shift? It wasn't as though they weren't married. They were. For an entire…what?…half an hour? Some day he'd even see her naked. The thought made her feel even more awkward than she already did. She'd not let even Roland see her naked. No man, none at all, had seen her in the altogether since she was a baby.

Turning back, she found he'd stripped to his pants, his chest bare. Jocelyn was right, she decided. He was magnificent.

"I'll blow out the candle," he offered.

Christiana jumped at the suggestion, "Yes," hurrying under the covers. She closed her eyes and prayed to fall asleep quickly.

* * *

To Will's surprise, he slept well beside Christiana. Far better than he had in weeks. He woke pressed against her, one arm about her slender waist holding her close. The fabric of her shift was soft on his skin and for a few confusing moments he imagined it was Jocelyn beside him.

He breathed in deeply. The scent was wrong. Jocelyn had always worn a light perfume she'd claimed she and Christiana made together. It was always on her, a delicate, floral fragrance. This was not her. There was no specific scent he could name. It was pleasant, but not Jocelyn. There was no way he could continue to think of her beside him when the scent emphatically told him he was dreaming her.

He opened his eyes.

Christiana still slept, curled on her side, her breaths deep and even.

Rolling onto his back, he sighed. Good morning, reality, he thought. Time for a brand new day. While he still wasn't sure marrying Christiana was the right thing to do, here he was. Whatever came, they'd have to deal with it together. Reaching over, he shook her awake before standing to get dressed.

* * *

The sheets were a pristine snowy white.

Christiana tied her surcoat, reluctant to bring up the subject. She suspected Jocelyn's father had paid to have the good Sisters notify him if there was proof of either union consummated. "My lord," she began, then felt her cheeks go hot with a flush as she corrected herself. "Will."

He joined her at the bedside. "What?"

"The sheets." She gestured. "They're so…white."

"That they are." He studied them, a tiny frown on his brow. "What's wrong with…oh. _White_. Blood. Is that absolutely necessary?"

"For a noble bride it had better be there."

"Who would question --"

"Anyone. Both of us had better be above reproach right now. By birth we're both common, Will. What they did to you in London they wouldn't hesitate to repeat if they thought something was amiss, Prince Edward's decree or not." She'd seen many times how the nobility could turn on one of their own.

He blinked. "I'll get my knife."

By the time they were done staging the room, it looked as though they'd had quite the passionate night. He smiled. "Well that should do it. Let anyone try and claim differently, eh?"

There was no breakfast at this early hour. They'd travel, then stop after a couple hours for a small meal, saving their larger meal for late afternoon. It was a small relief to hear that Roland had gone to work for Princess Joan. The awkwardness that would have inevitably been there from his presence was gone. While she was sad he'd decided to leave his friends, it was best. It was better if Will didn't wonder about them.

For awhile Christiana rode in the wagon with all of their belongings, wrapped in a blanket while Wat drove and Kate rode. She was glad to have little in the way of conversation at first. She wanted a chance to really think on her new life, yet discovered quickly that solitude was wearing. When Will suggested she ride beside him for awhile, she readily agreed.

Kate joined Wat in the wagon, leaving that horse for her.

Will spoke to her as they rode, bits of conversation she decided were designed to make her at ease with him. "Your sisters are married," he began. "One to the son of a cloth merchant and the other to the steward of a minor lord somewhere in southern Aquitaine."

She'd not thought of her sisters in years, for Jocelyn had seemed like a sister instead of her lady a good portion of the time. Glancing at him, she saw he'd tucked the longer strands of hair framing his face behind his ears, a pensive expression lending a hardness to his features.

"He believes both to be happy."

"Then I'm happy for them." Christiana had not known them well enough to feel much of anything for them so why not be happy that they were?

"He said he hopes that you'll be as well."

"I will be." At his searching stare, Christiana tilted her head. "Well, I hope I will be. I always thought you to be a good man." Aside from some of those strange compliments, like the one referring to the flanks of his horse. Those were not so good.

"Thank you." Attention returning to the road, he picked up their pace a bit. Behind them, Wat and Kate were talking in heated tones about something she couldn't quite make out.

"This land we have is on the edge of Anjou."

"I don't recall him having any land."

"It was a recent acquisition. He was still trying to decided whether to sell it or keep it when Geoff asked if he'd any properties with buildings of any sort. I'm afraid we let him assume I was wanting to add to my great list of houses if possible."

"In a way you are. Your first house just happens to be a tent.," she pointed out.

Once more, he watched her before replying with a grin, "You're a positive thinker aren't you?"

"I was trained to be. We all were. Avery had a tendency to see the worst, so his second wife -- Jocelyn's first step-mother -- had us trained so we'd always look on the shiny, sunny side. She claimed it made her days easier."

"Did it?"

"I never asked. It wasn't my place to do so. Tell me more about the land."

"I don't know much really. He was happy to have it off his hands, but Geoff said that doesn't necessarily mean anything bad about the lands, just that he didn't want the responsibility for them. I've the papers in my trunk if you'd like to look at them later. We'll be meeting his replacement there. Geoff was sending him on ahead to make a listing of anything the house needs. We looked over our coins and separated out the sum we can expect to pay for up to five men for the winter. We can spend less if they'll accept shelter and food."

"Will five be enough?"

"It'll have to be. We'll know more once we get there. When Geoff looked over the papers, he said I was by far the luckiest man he'd ever met, which was a good thing for him as he'd the worst luck of all men. He wouldn't explain what he meant. With him the comment could mean anything."

They rode in silence for awhile, listening to the low sound of Wat and Kate arguing.

* * *

That Gavin was chatting up Kate again. Again! And she was letting him.

The second day of their journey, they'd met up with a large group of travelers and joined them, partly for safety in numbers and partly for Will and Christiana to practice social interactions together. This meant that Wat and Kate sat apart from them in the evenings. Somewhere in the third day a new man had joined them and promptly decided Kate was of interest.

Wat paused in crossing to them. To be honest, this man looked more like a noble than the miller he'd claimed to be. His clothes, though worn, were of obvious quality. Not that it meant anything. They could have been won in a game of chance like Geoff had enjoyed far too often, or he could have taken them off a dead man.

The clothes weren't the only suspicious thing about him. He smiled too much and watched Kate a little too closely. From where Wat stood, Gavin -- a noble's name if he'd ever heard one -- looked like a wolf dressed like a sheep trying to insinuate himself into the fold. He asked Kate about her business, questions she'd smiled at. Apparently, this _Gavin_ had a knowledge of smithing. He'd been able to fully understand Kate's technical answers and now he took every opportunity to talk to her. He'd gotten her life story from her within a day.

A single day!

Wat's dislike had nothing to do with his own affections for Kate. Well, almost nothing. Since their talk that night she'd relaxed again around him. Clearing the air had done wonders to bringing the playfulness back into their friendship.

He just didn't trust the man. A glib tongue like he possessed was nothing but trouble.

"So your lord is the famous Sir William?"

Wat rolled his eyes. As though they'd not said it fifty times already.

Gavin looked at Kate with surprise. "Then the smith who designed his light armor really is a woman? It's you."

"It's me." Kate smiled. "Many have tried the technique, but I've got it perfected. No one else so far can do what I do."

"You're a very special woman."

Wat about gagged when Gavin's warm gaze traveled down her and back up. Did she not see through this rogue? He was being more than obvious in his attentions.

Thankfully, Gavin headed off with the rest of the travelers instead of following them at the stretch of road they needed. He didn't even stop to say goodbye to Kate.

* * *

Adhemar re-read the letter with dark amusement rising. Jocelyn's scheming parent had gotten everything he'd wanted. Men to protect them so he could save his own funds on such an expense. His 'treasured' daughter out of his household. Her untrustworthy maid married off, thereby negating his obligation towards her. He'd gotten his own wants at the expense of all involved.

Thatcher, Jocelyn, Christiana, that man of Thatcher's. Even at Adhemar's expense. Literally. It took money to keep an army anywhere. Adhemar wondered if he himself had been blind not to see all of the maneuvering Avery had done.

Although, he'd been rather distracted by Thatcher at the time….

He leaned back in his chair. Despite time having passed, Jocelyn was still in a somewhat fragile emotional state. He didn't think it would benefit her at all to learn just who her former beloved had married.

Former, his mind snickered. As though she doesn't carry him about in her heart and mind daily, oblivious to anyone else.

He'd not pressed her for physical intimacy. Her corpse impression left him cold. Instead, he'd begun puzzling her out as best he could. There were things he knew she enjoyed, so he'd added them to the daily routine. A merchant was invited in with cloth samples, yet Jocelyn was uninterested in any of them, giving the barest of glances at the wares before walking back up the stairs. Nor was she interested in the musicians or in going on a hunt. Her interest was entirely taken up by moping about staring out the windows at the countryside. That or pretending to sew with Anne while really avoiding his mother.

Katherine pretended to like Jocelyn just as much as she'd once pretended to like Anne. His mother was very good at pretending. She'd pretended to love his father right up until his body was in the grave. She'd pretended she stayed here in his home because he was the best of her children. Really he was the one who'd the most power and what his mother loved was power. She wielded her power over Anne with a smug turn to her lips. Sometimes he almost felt sorry for Anne.

As for Anne, mostly he tolerated her presence. He may have loved her once, but that time was long gone. Adhemar would be happy if he never had to see either Anne or Uncle Robert ever again. He was doomed to disappointment in that however, for he'd agreed to give them shelter until Robert could somehow grow his fortune back. How Uncle planned to do that was beyond him.

As he sat pondering his family, Jocelyn entered the room and took a chair by the fire. She looked his way, then turned so that her back was to him.

He poured wine for himself and for her. "I'm curious. What did you envision your life with him to be like?" Carrying both cups to the chairs there, he found her staring at him as though he'd lost his mind.

Jocelyn reached for one cup, careful not to let her fingers brush his. "Why are you asking?"

"Like I said. I'm curious. While Edward decreed he could keep that wealth he'd won, it was a paltry bit. A parcel of land with nothing upon it. A couple chickens, a few horses, coin. What sort of life did you think you'd have?"

Her gaze lowered to the cup. She ran one finger around the rim, her expression shifting from suspicion to wariness. "A house. Not opulent but comfortable."

"Servants?"

"Yes." Her tone implied it was a given.

Adhemar tried not to let his thoughts on that assumption show in order to keep her talking. It wasn't often he could get her to speak more than a few words at once to him. "Go on."

"Food to eat, warm fires in the winter. I'd have clothes made to commemorate those places we'd travel during tournament. There'd be poetry in the evenings and love…." She took a sip of her wine. Drawing in a sharp breath, she seemed to remember herself and who she spoke to, for she shook her head. "No doubt you think it silly."

"No, not at all," he lied. "Did you think the beginning of your life would be that way? I mean, he'd no house on that land he had, did he?"

Jocelyn's mouth opened yet no sound issued forth.

"And he'd three men and that farris?" He set his wine on the table between their chairs. "I suppose he could have hired men with his coin, but after purchasing land, hiring laborers to build your comfortable house and then furnishing it, he'd need to make a killing at every tournament," literally, he added silently, "in order to recoup the loss. Setting up a household from next to nothing would be a daunting task to many, though I'm certain you'd have born those initial discomforts with grace."

"Discomforts." Jocelyn repeated, then took a long gulp from her wine.

"Oh yes. Discomforts." Leaning his head back against the chair, Adhemar considered how best to continue. "Until a house could have been built, you'd have lived in inns and your tent. There would have been little funds for fripperies to begin with and little funds for hiring servants, meaning economy would have been important in the first few years."

"Why years?" Cup drained, she set it down with a thump. "He always did well at tournament. He even beat _you_ in the end."

Adhemar tried to ignore the quiet taunt, though it caused a tightening throughout his shoulders and back. "It takes time to build comfort like we have here. It's not instantaneous with a title. Surely you know that? It takes work and constant vigilance to keep finances in check. One must budget for every household expense if one wishes to survive with any sort of wealth intact. Sometimes there is no extra for frivolous expenditures. Your life with him would have been back breaking in the beginning, but I'm sure your _love_ would have born up under the hardship. After all, you were both passionate people and an excess of passion cannot cool under the strain of difficult times."

Jocelyn flushed. "I stood by him at the end when everyone else was spitting on him. I sent messages to Prince Edward, never daring to think he'd actually read them, or that he'd intervene. I was willing to run away and give up this life. You know nothing of what we felt for each other."

He'd pushed her too far.

She stood. "You poke fun at me just like you always did him. Look at the naïve girl with her head filled with silly ideas!"

Raising his brows, he couldn't resist asking, "So you admit you're naïve and they are silly?"

Jocelyn gasped, then reigned in her anger, that blank mask she was becoming quite good at slipping into place. "I'll be sewing with Anne this afternoon."

Adhemar watched her go and silently cursed his tendency towards scorn and sarcasm. Their chat could have gone much better.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 5  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

* * *

"We have to be united on this," Kate reminded Wat once more. The next day would see them at their new home and who knew how often they'd have to actually coordinate with each other there? Kate expected they'd all be busy.

He glanced at Will and Christiana and bent his head close to hers. "We _are_ united, but I think a few days isn't long enough. We can't start it just yet."

Kate crossed her arms. She knew it wasn't. Still, they had to start pushing those two together. It was for their own good. Geoff had advised making certain Christiana was at the front of everything. She would be present wherever Will looked, her presence sure and steady and hopefully enough to help him put Jocelyn aside. "It's not. I know that, but we have to. We have to have some sort of plan to implement and then start doing so."

"I'm with him all the time, Kate. I'll talk her up I suppose."

"You can't just say things. You have to work them in like they're spontaneous. We have to be sneaky. It wouldn't do to have either of them realize we're arranging things for them."

He sighed. "The things we do for friends…. What do you suggest then?"

"Until a maid can be arranged for, I'll help her early before I start work and then before I turn in at night. I'll keep her focus on him and it'll be your responsibility to get him in the chamber at opportune moments. I'll tell you when she's bathing or getting ready to undress and you get him in there. It's not much, but it's a start. He has to begin seeing her as more than Jocelyn's maid. Will must begin seeing her as his wife."

Skepticism played about his features and then he stood tall once more. "I'll keep you informed if you'll do the same for me."

"Deal."

Kate was satisfied with their deal, but would it work? Could Will and Christiana be influenced to look at each other for love and happiness?

* * *

The reality of setting up a household from next to nothing was going to be harsh. There were a myriad little details that needed attention. There were animals to be bought, some for slaughter and some to breed for future slaughter. Cattle, sheep, more chickens. Furniture to construct, grain and supplies to buy and store, men to hire…. The list was long and Christiana expected Will's new herald to have an even longer list than the one she'd compiled in her mind. Likely, they'd decide to make-do with what they already had as much as possible until the following year. Getting through the winter until Tournament started again would be their main goal.

She watched Will add wood to the campfire, building it up to keep the maximum amount of heat in the air. Wat was out gathering more wood and Kate was repacking a section of the wagon. They weren't raising the tent tonight, making their beds by the fire so there'd be less to pack in the morning. Will estimated mid-morning should see them at their home. Between the four of them was an undercurrent of excitement that permeated every little task. She'd seen Wat and Kate speaking with low voices, their heads together, an intense light in their eyes. Will was jittery, unable to stand or sit still for long, in constant movement. As for herself, Christiana was anxious to have a home of her own. Perhaps once there, those boundaries of husband and wife could be explored more easily than during travels.

He came and sat beside her on the blanket. "We'll have a warm place to spend the winter and with rationing, the food we bought today will hold out. We still have coin if we need it." Stretching out a hand, he grasped one of hers and raised it, thumb sweeping her knuckles. He kept giving her little touches like that as though attempting to become familiar with her presence. She'd noticed he was affectionate with his friends, so it made sense to her that he'd work himself into being such with her. "I've experienced having nothing at all. We're nowhere near that. Spring will be here before you know it. We can always sell Adhemar's horse. I'm sure it's worth something to someone, maybe even him."

The idea of marching up to Adhemar's home and offering to sell him his horse back made her smile. "He's a fine animal."

Will released her hand and sat back on his hands. "Christiana, do you trust me?"

Why wouldn't she? He'd been nothing but a gentleman thus far, and honorable as well. He'd kept her warm at night during their journey and treated her like the lady she was now supposed to be. Besides, Jocelyn had trusted him. That was enough for her. "Of course."

"I can see you're worried. You've nothing to be worried about. We'll be fine. Tournament will be here in the blink of an eye."

Though tired from traveling, none of them slept well. In the morning, Christiana's excitement rose to near bursting. Today she'd finally see her new home. Hers. The idea made her grin a little as they started out. This still seemed a dream to her and she wondered if she was ever going to wake up.

Will insisted she ride beside him. It was to give the right impression he said, that of the lord and lady arriving. Christiana didn't tell him that wasn't how she'd seen it happen. In her experience, the lord and a portion of his men rode in first, with the rest of the men coming in later with the women, children and finally, the supplies and household goods. But then, Jocelyn's stepmothers had not liked traveling…. By mid-morning they were being hailed by a slim dark haired young man who introduced himself as Mark, a 'dear friend of Geoffrey Chaucer who was honored to be pressed into service by so distinguished a lord.'

The house Will had bargained for wasn't large, hardly on the same level as Jocelyn's family home. Neither was it a small cottage. There was a great hall, kitchen, storeroom, and two private chambers at the top of a staircase at the end of the hall. They had stables, a fenced area for the animals, and a small pond Wat assured her had fish in it if only he could manage to catch them. There were trees that would give them fruit in the summer and fall. Christiana hurried from one area to the next with Kate beside her.

She could hardly wait to settle in.

* * *

Three men besides Geoff's replacement Mark had come to work for them and one of them had a wife and daughter who'd come to do the laundry. All of this was told to Will while he was still trying to comprehend the size of the house. Never having owned so much as a hut, the house looked huge to him. And it was all his? Was this what Geoff had meant by being lucky? Surely this went beyond luck? Stone and wood seemed to stretch out and onward forever.

Mark brought a long rolled paper to him and unrolled it, holding it up. "Now Sir William, my lord, these fields on the east here are yours as well as this small patch to the south. George and Agnes -- his wife -- tell me they were modestly profitable this year."

Modestly profitable? Well, good for them, Will thought. Profitable was good for men and their fields. He blinked. Fields. Wait, was Mark saying what he thought he was?

"The storehouse is back behind the house here," He pointed a finger, nearly dropped the map and juggled it again until it was straight. "George and Agnes were under the impression that the previous lord was going to winter here so they've set it up to his liking. You can always change it next season if it is displeasing. His family only recently pulled out his men guarding the lands, but George and Agnes said much of the grain and other harvested goods were left behind. I suspect there was a family problem and it sort of…fell through the cracks." There was an odd shifting in his eyes, like a man having to keep some secret he'd rather have aired.

Will crossed his arms. He'd pursue whatever that shifting meant later. Right now the important thing was making sure Mark was saying what he thought. If he was, they were indeed blessed. "Do you mean to say…we've already grain stored here? And other foodstuffs?"

"Yes, of course. And I should say that George and Agnes are willing to stay on and continue working the fields if you'd have them do so. I'd recommend it. George's family has been in this area a long time and he's well known among the peasant population. Keep him on and pay him well for the work he does and it'll only help you in the end."

"We've food."

Mark nodded, amusement in his eyes. "Yes. Enough to last the winter and with the provisions you brought with you we'll all eat well." His brows rose. "Perhaps tomorrow we might ride the perimeter of your lands so you can visualize?"

"I think we should." He couldn't begin to visualize and suspected that even with the ride this wouldn't feel real.

"Wonderful. Will your lady be joining us then?"

"Christiana?" He saw the amusement on Mark's face increase. Would Christiana like to see their property? Probably. It'd be something to do together and Lord knew they could use the time. "Yes. We'll go. The three of us."

"Excellent, my lord! Now, there is a matter with this outlying field. The crops are never good in it and I'd recommend renting it out. That way, there shall be some income from it no matter what the harvests."

"Oh…um…" It didn't sound like a bad idea, but he didn't know a thing about being a landlord. Will craned his neck around, but didn't see Christiana anywhere about. Maybe she was inside already. He'd have to ask her about all these matters later. She knew about noble life so he assumed she could tell him if renting land was a good idea or not.

"And the taxes must be paid. We're already late in doing so, but I'm sure with the exchange of the lands you won't have trouble if you send the taxes immediately."

"Right. Taxes." How much was he going to lose in taxes then? Will had visions of the funds tucked away being siphoned out faster than he could replace them.

"And lastly for the moment, I'd recommend completing a survey of the lands. George can help. There are a few families living on the edge here," he pointed to a spot on the map. "It would be of benefit to know how many are actually on your lands."

"Of course. Begin that task as soon as we've settled."

"Yes, my lord. As you wish it."

The rest of the day was spent in noting repairs that needed undertaken. The responsibilities he'd stepped into floored him. How was he going to remember this all? Throughout the afternoon, Will was glad to have Mark there. He was a comforting reminder of Geoff, though the two were little alike. Mark had no gambling problem, no wife, and no aspirations towards writing anything besides letters. He'd known Geoff for years and counted himself lucky to know him.

Supper was cold meat and bread by firelight. George and Agnes had left for their home, promising to be ready to work in the morning. The other two men would be present as well. While George started outside work, Agnes and daughter would begin the laundry that needed doing.

Will was late going to bed, careful not to wake Christiana. She'd had a hard day beginning to put their house to rights. It wasn't in terrible condition, but it wasn't good either. There was much to do. The previous lord hadn't kept the lands well in Will's opinion.

Stripping to his breeches, he slipped into bed. Christiana didn't stir. Rolling onto his side, he rested his head on a hand and watched her in the low light from the fireplace. Would he ever know her as well as he'd come to know Jocelyn? Logically, it would come eventually. So why did it feel like it never would? Granted, it had been days, but still. Shouldn't he have begun feeling something besides uncertainty about her? Looking at her, he still saw a woman he barely knew.

He knew her smile was sweet and that she bit her lip when nervous. He knew she watched him when she thought he wasn't looking. And he knew that she did trust him. Reaching out, he pulled the covers a bit higher on her shoulders. She'd not hesitated earlier to place her hands on his shoulders when he'd lifted her off her mount to the ground. Her thank you had been soft and spoken with a soft smile on her lips. Sometimes he noticed uncertainty dancing in her eyes and decided that she was in the same place about him as he was on her. Two people brought together who likely never would have been in other circumstances.

It was heartening to see Wat and Kate embracing her so thoroughly. In fact, they were bending over backwards to make her feel accepted. Kate had even offered to add performing as a maid to her own daily duties.

Will groaned and returned to his back. To be honest, he'd not thought of hiring a maid. Nor had Christiana said anything. Was she reluctant to ask him or simply thought she didn't need one? It was another thing to consult with her on. Already he'd a list of matters that needed her attention. In the morning, before leaving the chambers, he planned to consult her on all those matters Mark had brought to his attention.

* * *

Adhemar's mother was the biggest bossy bitch Jocelyn had ever met.

She stabbed at her sewing, longing for the days when she'd passed the time with Christiana at her side. They'd had many merry discussions and giggles. Anne was kind to her, but they'd little in common besides family by marriage. Jocelyn missed Christiana. More than once she'd wondered if her former maid and friend was happy. Was she well? Had she married? Jocelyn hoped Christiana had a happy life. One of them should be happy and it was unlikely it was going to be _her_. Not with Adhemar.

"Are you listening, Jocelyn," came Katherine's voice in a suspicious tone.

"Yes, Katherine, I heard you." She'd heard her the first time Katherine had asked her questions. And the second and so on. She'd chosen not to answer which was apparently unacceptable to the woman.

"Well then? Answer me. Or have you no tongue in your head?"

Setting her sewing aside, Jocelyn crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "Frankly, Katherine, I don't see how it's your business how often Adhemar and I are intimate. If he's not confided in you, then I don't feel I should go behind his back and break that silence. However, when he does talk with you on the matter, I'll feel quite able to share all with you."

Her eyes narrowed. "Impertinent," she hissed, then rose and stalked from the room.

Anne laughed so hard she choked and when she'd calmed, she shook her head. "That was masterful. I've rarely seen her deflected so well. There's no way she can claim you're indiscreet in your speech with her."

"She was prying. The very nature of her questions suggests Adhemar has not, in fact, confided in her regarding those subjects." Katherine constantly tried to put forth the picture of a son consulting his mother on every aspect of his life, which she knew wasn't true. Adhemar often listened to his mother's advice with a blank expression, then went off and did whatever he wanted.

"Observant." Anne's grin faded. "Be careful though. She's a harsh enemy. I should know. It's been a decade since I got on her bad side and I've not left it once."

'I don't like her." Jocelyn said with a sigh, again picking up her sewing and glancing at it. She'd used the wrong color on the flowers again but saw no reason to pick it out. Christiana would have teased her gently until she did, yet Anne was as poor at embroidery as she was. Katherine liked to make snide remarks that Anne was as unfit there as she was in the rest of her life, which was untrue from what Jocelyn saw. Anne appeared to be a good wife and mother even if her domestic skills weren't exemplary.

"Few like Katherine. How are you liking Bess though? Is she working out?"

Bess was Germaine's young wife. Nice enough Jocelyn supposed, if more than a little awed by Adhemar and besotted with Germaine. "She's adequate. Untrained."

"At least she won't carry tales. My dear maid is one of Katherine's spies. Robert thinks it's amusing so he let it stand."

Jocelyn rolled her eyes. "Men always underestimate women."

"Did one man? That one you miss? Did he underestimate you? What was he like?"

Glancing to Anne, she found the woman dropping her embroidery to the ground with no concern for it at all. "I don't know who you --"

"Please. I know you wanted to marry another man. Adhemar can be a wonderful letter writer when he chooses and his letters describing his rivalry with your other suitor were detailed to his advantage. I'd like to hear of his rival."

After a moment, Jocelyn nodded. "Very well." She couldn't see the harm in it. "Sir William was his name, but only after Prince Edward made that happen. He was made a noble in class, but his heart was noble already. It's natural to him. Few men like him have I ever seen. He won my heart and Adhemar took me from him when I'd not thought it possible. All of London saw me kiss Will at tournament with Adhemar on his back in the dust. It was clear I preferred Will, but Adhemar couldn't let it go. He had to have his way." She wiped the tears from her eyes, surprised to see her hands shook.

Anne's smile faded and she began shaking her head, disbelief in her eyes. "No. Oh no, Jocelyn, is that what you think? That Adhemar --"

"Is it not obvious? He's spiteful. He took me to spite us all!"

She came to Jocelyn, kneeling and proffering a small square of cloth. "Perhaps Adhemar is spiteful, but he didn't pursue you after that joust. Why he…." She trailed off. "Remain here. I'll return very shortly." She was back in minutes, out of breath, her hands holding several rolled pages. "Take these. Adhemar's letters home, written in his own hand. Read them."

Jocelyn did as asked, skimming until she found the pertinent passages.

'….I am done with this woman. Of incomparable beauty perhaps, but I shall settle on one far less lovely. I must. The unthinkable has occurred as you're probably already aware. I'm certain the countryside rang loudly with the news that the great Count Adhemar has lost the title of World Tournament Champion. The peasant has beaten me. Me. I lay in agony from my injuries while he is the toast of London, dining with royalty, wooing the lady.

As I write, my men are paying off local accounts and are preparing to break camp. Carys warns me that I'm not yet in condition to travel, yet I can't remain here any longer. The crowds still cry 'William'. It sickens me. I must be home. No more war, no more chasing the lady. Expect us….'

It went on in the same vein. The next letter however, was much longer and far more pleased in tone.

'….The Lady Jocelyn, thought lost to me a mere few days past, is mine. How did this occur, you wonder? I won't keep you in suspense. We were packing the wagons when her father arrived. He was most insistent that I listen to his proposal. Naturally, I was skeptical, assuming that if we were re-opening negotiations that he would try to bleed me for more men. Instead, he offered me more. More land, more goods. Just to take Jocelyn off his hands.

He'd sent her and her maid to a convent -- apparently Edward's pet peasant uncrossed her legs a few times. Her maid admitted she'd helped arrange meetings. Now, I know your thoughts on such women, but trust my judgment. She's not wanton, mother. She fancies herself in love and you and I both know how a woman under that delusion will behave.

Avery refused to let the peasant have her. He's no use for Thatcher at all. Bloodlines, yes? 'Peasant blood,' he said, 'won't mingle with mine. Jocelyn doesn't understand these things, being only a woman.' I admit he was convincing. And so, I'm planning to ride to the convent and collect her as soon as Avery has informed her of his decision. I must plan to show her what a wife in our family can expect. A quick ride to begin with. She enjoys riding and then….'

Jocelyn stopped reading. "My father went to him?"

"Yes." Anne took the pages from her and re-rolled them. "Jocelyn, I know Adhemar, have since we were children. He'd already let you go when your father went to see him. There were feelers sent out to other families with daughters and some that sent feelers to him. I could show you those as well, all dated from before this last letter."

She couldn't wrap her mind around it. "Adhemar lost the joust and still they wanted him?" What did they see in him that she didn't?

"He was the reigning champion for years. It counts for something." She dragged her chair over and sat. "Look at it this way. Adhemar is a good businessman. You've seen that already. When he realized the situation, he took the deal being offered. Your father wanted Adhemar's men and a noble bloodline far more than he wished your personal happiness. This isn't the first time I've seen that. It's a harsh thing to learn for a daughter who thought herself treasured. You weren't the first and you won't ever be the last."

The letters confused her. "No. No, Adhemar put his spin on matters. That's all these letters are. It's his word of what happened, saving face with his family for underhanded tactics to gain me as a wife."

"He's not always devious. Nor always spiteful. He's a man, Jocelyn, and why would he lie to those people who know him best?" She held up the rolls. "He'd planned to show you that he wouldn't bear you any ill will for the indiscretions of youth, for he'd had many himself. If you'd be a good wife to him, then he'd be a good husband to you. He'd be kind --"

"Kind!" Jocelyn stood. "He's not a kind man, Anne! He's not considerate of others or kind at all!"

A strange light was in Anne's eyes, one Jocelyn couldn't quite decipher as Anne set the rolls on the table beside Jocelyn's chair. "He was once. Men aren't born with those traits. They're learned through the harsh lessons of life." Now she stood. "Re- read them when you're calmer. If you'd like to see others, I'll arrange it."

Jocelyn ignored the letters Anne had left and searched out Germaine to assist her in writing her own letter. When she finished dictating her letter, she took it from him, read it a final time and nodded. "Send it."

"My lady, perhaps such a letter should wait until you've calmed."

"I'm very calm, Germaine. Send it and have the messenger wait for a response."

He paused, then dipped his head in a nod. "I'll see to it at once, my lady."

It shouldn't be long before her father answered the charges she sent. But what would she do if it was truth? Could she swallow her pride and apologize to Adhemar for her assumptions? Jocelyn decided to wait and see what the response held before considering saying anything to him.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 6  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

* * *

Daily life as a lord took some doing to get used to. Will had a tendency to do things for himself, which served to shock the men recently hired. George almost always stared at him with a perplexed gaze, as though the ways of this particular noble were far beyond his comprehension. Piers, John, and Adam generally followed George's lead.

Duties weren't ignored and in gradual degrees, a routine was established, enabling Will to spend more time with Christiana. Kate and Wat encouraged it, Wat being very blunt in his advice. Christiana was Will's wife and he'd have to know her sometime. Wat had put much emphasis on the 'know'. Kate was a bit more tactful.

"Surely you're curious about her? I know she is about you."

"She is?" He followed her into her work area and watched while she took up her tools of trade. While it had occurred to him Christiana might want to know more about him, he hadn't thought she'd speak to Kate about it. "Do you mean that?"

Her stare was amused. "Of course. You _are_ her husband. Why wouldn't she be curious? Most women do think about their husbands, Will. It's a natural part of married life." Kate watched him and when he didn't answer, she set down her tools, placed her hands on her worktable and leaned on them. "What?"

"How do I talk to her?"

"Like you do any other woman. I don't understand the problem."

"The problem is that she's not any other woman. She's my wife. I don't know how to talk to a wife, Kate. I've never had one. What if I say the wrong thing to her?"

Her lips twitched a second before laughter spilled from her. "No man knows how until he has one, but it's no different than how you talk to me."

Will leaned against the table as well. "I can't talk to her like I talk to you."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "I don't know her. You, I do know."

"Exactly. Talk to her and you'll know her, too. Why are you having such a time with this, Will? Of course it'll be awkward at first. If you recall, our first discussions weren't easy."

"They were easier than talking to her," he muttered under his breath, but Kate's sharp hearing caught it.

"Why? Because she's your wife and lady? Before you wed she was really no higher than I. Peasants all of us."

Will left her then, taking time to pace about the immediate grounds and consider her words. In a way, she was right. Christiana had been born to a peasant merchant, albeit one who'd grown in wealth. He'd been born to a thatcher. So why couldn't he talk to her with ease? It didn't feel like it was going to get any easier. It had to though. There was no way it could get harder. Was there?

The change occurred before he even realized it had happened. It just did. One evening, while watching her comb out her hair on their bed, he realized he was sharing things with her that he'd not considered sharing before.

"I can't help but feeling lost sometimes, like I'm still pretending. This doesn't seem real."

She paused in her combing, shift low on one shoulder. "I think it'll take time to be comfortable with it. I'm not…completely at ease either."

He laid back, hands under his head. "You make it look easy the way you handle things."

Christiana laughed, then set her comb down and began braiding her hair. "I've a slight advantage. Because of Jocelyn I spent more time in the direct noble environment than you. I attended banquets, weddings, daily gatherings of the immediate household."

The act of raising her arms pushed her breasts forward. Will couldn't help but glance down. She was fuller in bosom than Jocelyn had been. He had the sudden urge to reach out and skim his fingers along those curves. "Yes." Licking his lips, he tore his gaze from her. "Did I tell you Mark finally explained about the stored goods?"

"What did he say?"

"They were a wedding present from the Black Prince. He took Mark aside personally before Mark left London and swore him to secrecy. Apparently he didn't want to appear overly generous. His father wasn't happy he'd bestowed a title on me and he wanted to help us further. Mark swore George and Agnes to secrecy as well." Sitting, he found himself very close to her. Strange. It hadn't seemed close when he'd first sat there.

Finished with her braiding, Christiana flipped the braid back over her shoulder and raised her chin. Her lips parted. "Oh. It was kind of him to remember us, but…I should warn you that he'll want a favor from us sometime in the future. It's the way it works. A generous royal expects suitably grateful subjects."

Her tongue slipped out, wet her lips. He leaned a fraction closer, head tilting to the left a little. She did as well, swallowing so hard he heard it. What would it be like, he wondered, to kiss her, and not those quick pecks they gave each other in front of others?

Christiana's glance drifted down to his mouth and back up.

Will raised a hand, smoothed his fingers across her brow.

No. He couldn't. He still expected Jocelyn to walk through the door and cry betrayal.

Pulling back, he stood from the bed. "It's late. You should rest."

He didn't miss the disappointment in her eyes, but chose to ignore it, leaving her alone in the chamber.

* * *

A week after Christiana and Will took residence, the first invitation arrived. Soon after more came in. Men who despised Adhemar were lining up to befriend the man who'd beaten him at tournament. They didn't appear to care what class he'd started out in, as long as the defeat was there. So, where had they been when Will had been stuck in the stocks? Not supporting him that was sure. Still, they were contacts desperately needed to add a sheen of respectability. For entertainment, these men offered small tournaments, amateur things really, but enough winnings to supplement their coffers. Christiana was able to purchase some cloth to make new clothing for their household and a flimsy piece of fabric to embroider for herself -- a completely frivolous buy.

She found herself watching Will during the hours they spent together, becoming familiar with the timbre of his voice and the tone that told her he was teasing. She could tell when he was hiding his feelings and putting on a face for them all and when he was genuinely pleased. As the days passed, she began to wonder if he really would look her way on some day in the future. Why just the other night he'd looked like he was going to kiss her! Would he take her to their bed and when he did, how soon would she have a child within her? Christiana sought to please him, to show him she was every bit the woman Jocelyn had been. She was just as gracious, as kind, as mysterious, as vivacious….

She competed with a woman not there for her husband's affections.

Each morning she woke before him. She was used to rising early in order to get started on her tasks for the day. There'd always been sewing to do for Jocelyn and other things to keep her occupied until her lady woke at her usual late hour.

Christiana had come to revel in these moments in the arms of her husband before he woke and Jocelyn once more slipped between them. In sleep, he held her, his chest at her back, legs tangled with hers, and his arm anchoring her against him. It'd be a lie to say she didn't enjoy the unconscious embrace. She felt protected and safe with his strength beside her, imagining that he was hers in full, that those warm glances he'd given Jocelyn had instead been to her. She dreamed up the life she wished they could have together with no Jocelyn in the way.

In these moments, she fell in love with William Thatcher. In these moments, she hated Jocelyn for being foremost in his thoughts.

He also rose early, but those moments were there. They were hers alone and no one, not even Jocelyn, could take them from her. Jocelyn may occupy his waking thoughts, yet it was Christiana he held in his sleep. She took some measure of satisfaction in that.

By the time he stirred, guilt would have risen inside her over her changing feelings towards her dearest friend and lady. Jocelyn had never been anything but good and kind to her and look what was coming about? She should be grateful to her instead of hating her, because without Jocelyn there'd be no William Thatcher to now call her husband.

Will would turn his face into her hair, draw in a breath, and slide his hand up her stomach to her hip, slowly disentangling himself from her. Through it all, she pretended to sleep, waiting until he'd left the bed before pretending to stir. He'd say he hadn't meant to wake her and she'd reply that it was fine as she had a busy day planned anyway. He'd dress and leave her to herself, after which she'd say a quick prayer that she'd be a good wife. The next day it'd happen all over again.

After much consideration over several long days, Christiana decided she didn't really hate Jocelyn, only that Jocelyn would always be between them. Jocelyn would forever be in his heart and Christiana the second. What love could possibly be left for the second best?

She was enjoying the morning ritual of waiting for him to wake, when his voice came loud in the dim light.

"Why do you pretend to be sleeping every morning?" The bed shook as he sat up.

Her heart stopped for a beat. "How did you know," she blurted out, turning her head to look at him.

His shoulders lifted in a slow shrug. "The second I move, you tense. It's telling."

"I don't want to disturb you."

"What's a minute or two?"

"You work hard. A minute or two could help."

One hand tugged the blanket up a little higher on her shoulder. It was a kind, thoughtful gesture. "I think you're hiding something."

"No! I wouldn't!"

"Then there's no harm in telling me is there?"

Logic. He had to use logic. Turning her face back to the pillow, she decided to tell him. What was the worst thing that could happen? It couldn't be a bad thing for a wife to admit to mooning over her husband, could it? "I like waking up to you holding me," she confessed. "It makes me feel safe."

He was silent a moment and she didn't dare turn back to see his face. "Truly?"

"Yes."

The bed shook again as he left it. Christiana heard the sounds of cloth rustling and then his voice once more.

"A wife should feel safe with her husband. It…" he cleared his throat, "it pleases me you feel that way."

* * *

Wat was frustrated. Their efforts to cultivate a romance between Will and Christiana weren't working. The two continued to behave in a stilted manner together. "It's not working," he hissed at Kate, taking her arm and leading her towards the fireplace before she could begin up the stairs to help Christiana. "It's been three months and he's still not uncrossed her legs!"

"You don't have to tell me, Wat. I'm well aware it's not working."

Kate was shivering from the cold and he moved closer. Her insistence on sleeping in the stables was stupid, but she wouldn't change her mind, insisting she preferred being near her work and that manor living wasn't for her. She wasn't comfortable inside the fancy house. "We have to step it up," he said. "Push them."

"I'm doing all I can," she protested. "You've yet to actually get him in there during her bath and he practically runs before she can start undressing. Talk to him."

"You talk to her. She's got to know how important it is."

"_Every_ woman knows how important it is." Kate rolled her eyes.

Wat snorted. "It's not going to happen. That's all there is to it. It's never going to happen --"

"It'll happen," she insisted.

"Not at the rate things are going. Geoff said --"

It was Kate's turn to snort. "He's not here, Wat! He doesn't see what…." She stopped talking, fingers digging painfully into his arm as Will's voice greeted them.

* * *

Will hadn't lied to her. He was pleased by her confession, far more than he'd anticipated.

Wat and Kate were in the great hall and Will could smell bread baking already. Mark was in his usual spot at the table reading a letter. They had a seemingly endless list of chores that needed completing just between them. If they'd not had the other men to take care of the rest, they'd be drowning in work.

As he approached Kate and Wat, he heard a puzzling portion of their argument before they broke off into quiet. Kate was insisting something was going to happen, Wat didn't think so, started to cite something Geoff had said and then Kate started to reply. She didn't finish, her face oddly flushed.

"Morning Wat. Kate. We've work to do, yes?"

Kate and Wat exchanged a long glance. With a murmured 'good morning' she hurried past him and up the stairs.

For over a week, he and Wat had been attempting to build a screen for Christiana to put about the bathing tub so she'd not get as much of a draft during her baths. The tub wasn't big, but she'd been so pleased with the purchase that Will wanted to see her face light up again with delight. He wanted to please her as much as her confession had pleased him.

Wat struggled with the screen, cursing as he tried righting it without the entire thing crashing to the ground taking him with it. Will tried not to get in his way. He'd rather not be flattened by that chunk of wood. Once was enough.

George joined them, looking at the screen with his arms crossed over his chest and a critical expression upon his face. "You're doing it wrong," he announced in that superior tone he tended to take when around Wat. The two didn't get along on the best of days.

"Did I ask," Wat snapped.

"No," was George's genial reply, "but you're still doing it wrong."

"Well, the next time I ask, you can give your opinion, but until then keep it to yourself."

"Just sayin'. Measurements are wrong."

"I heard you the first time."

"Obviously not, 'cause they're still wrong."

Will raised a hand to interrupt the argument. "How can we fix it then?"

George eyed him, then Wat and the screen. "Burn it and start over would be easiest."

Wat's lip curled. As he'd worked tirelessly on it, he was obviously taking exception to George's assessment of his handiwork. Mayhem would be fast approaching if Will didn't diffuse him fast.

Will looked at the screen. It was lop-sided and horribly heavy, yet so off-balance that the slightest breeze might topple it over. He really didn't need it to fall on Christiana and brain her. It had to be fixed and if George knew how then perhaps George was the best man for the task. "That's not an option."

George pursed his lips. "Well then, my lord, if I'm left with it by myself I can work something out."

"Then do so. Wat, leave it."

Will couldn't wait to give the finished screen to Christiana.

* * *

At present, Jocelyn's thoughts were not something she wanted to dwell on. Each day brought a more morbid bent until she craved company and sought it. Even Adhemar's would do. She didn't particularly care who she spoke with as long as she didn't have to think about her life.

It was a blessing to come upon Anne and Robert's children. They were set loose upon the manor daily with only a single maid to look after them while Anne played companion to Katherine and Robert…. Well, Jocelyn wasn't quite clear what Robert did with his time, for he didn't spend it with Adhemar, nor did he train with Adhemar's men. She'd often seen him conferring with a man outside, but wasn't sure who the man was.

She adored the children, discovering that she enjoyed playing in the dirt with them, giving not a thought to the state of her clothes until she stood and inevitably found Adhemar watching them with the strangest look upon his face. He always watched her and though she waited at night with dread in her heart, he didn't touch her again. He appeared content that their marriage had been consummated and while she was glad for the respite, it left her wondering? Why? It wasn't like him to show sensitivity to anyone's needs and emotions. What was he planning, for she was aware he was always plotting something.

He still wanted her, she knew that, and yet he held himself back from her. It was puzzling and to her dismay, Jocelyn would catch herself watching him as well when he wasn't looking.

How long could they go on?

Her spirits plummeted further with the returned answer to her letter. It wasn't her father who'd written, but rather her stepmother. Sarah was the tactful one between them, answering each charge affirmative, yet trying to do so in a way that wouldn't hurt Jocelyn. Yes, Avery had re-opened negotiations with Count Adhemar. The Count had been reluctant to take the original agreement, so Avery had added to it to tempt him. Yes, Avery was concerned with bloodlines and as Jocelyn was his well-loved daughter he wanted her to have the best blood to mingle with.

Sarah tried to make it seem like a loving parent concerned only for his daughter's welfare, but she was unsuccessful. Jocelyn wondered if she'd known it as she'd sat writing the lines. How long had it taken Sarah to make Avery's manipulations sound decent? Had she agonized over each word? Sarah would grieve for Jocelyn, for that was the sort of woman she was.

Setting the letter aside, she went to her trunk and found the letters Anne had given her to read. Kneeling there on the floor, she read them again and again. How was it possible that Adhemar was more than the selfish, arrogant, sarcastic man she knew? Was it truly a possibility? The more she thought about it, the more she decided that Anne had to be right. There was more to Adhemar than Jocelyn knew. It couldn't be that Anne lied, for there was no love lost between the two that she could see. They behaved as though they hated each other.

But still. He'd taken the offer when he could have -- _should have _-- refused. On that he was guilty.

* * *

Lady Jocelyn should have been an excellent choice for a wife and yet she was lacking in that regard.

Adhemar's hands gripped the railing. She was below with the children, her manner making it obvious she'd be an excellent mother when that occurred. If it occurred. She continued to dress in somber colors, with little jewelry. Nor did she raise her voice often save to call the children to her. She avoided conversation and still had the annoying tendency to cry into her pillow at night.

"Let Anne tell her." Robert joined him at the railing.

"It's in the past, Uncle."

"She needs to see you as human, Adhemar, and right now you're still the bastard who took her from her love."

"No. Keep Anne silent."

Robert laughed. "Like I can control her tongue? I'd as sooner wave my hand and change the tides. But you're more than aware of what she's like."

Adhemar ignored the words. "Have you a reason for engaging me in conversation?"

"I need funds to start growing them."

The sum he named was far less than Adhemar had assumed he'd ask for. "Very well. Get it, grow it, and take your family away."

"I'll pay you back and then some, Adhemar."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course you will, Uncle, and when you've lost that sum, we'll talk again." A glance showed Robert irritatingly unoffended by the implied slur, grinning before he walked away -- as though Adhemar was an amusing child. Once, Robert hadn't annoyed him this much. In fact, when Adhemar was a child, he'd adored his Uncle and wanted to be just like him.

But then Robert had betrayed him and Adhemar didn't forget betrayal easily. He let himself think back to that day Robert had turned his life upside down.

Adhemar and Anne were to have been married. Adhemar thought he'd even loved her. He'd not noticed Robert appraising Anne in the week before the ceremony was to take place, though thinking back, he must have been. Robert must have been looking at Anne with jealousy in his heart, for he'd taken her. He'd kidnapped her, ridden out with her just before dawn on the day that was supposed to have been a happy one. When he'd brought her back months later, she was Robert's wife and pregnant.

Adhemar's gaze moved from Jocelyn, found Anne seated at the table, still eating slowly.

She'd tried to apologize for what had happened, but how could she have let it? How could she have let herself be taken aside, then abducted? When had she screamed? Had she even tried?

The more he thought on it, the more things festered. His questions went unanswered and now they were here in his home with no end in sight for this 'visit'. He had to look at both of them every day, sitting at his table, eating his food, living in his house.

How tempting to just give Uncle a large sum and send them away! It was far more satisfying however, to think of Uncle scrambling to find wealth, open and vulnerable. The knowledge that he, Adhemar, could decide to turn them all out at any time pleased him very much. Stepping from the rail, he turned on his heel. It was a good afternoon for sword training.

* * *

How much simpler it would be if there was no prior history between them!

Anne dropped the last bite of bread down onto her plate and watched Adhemar in the upstairs hall. He was watching Jocelyn with the children again. To her secret shame, she still found him attractive. It wasn't surprising however. He and Robert were similar in looks.

Sometimes, Anne wondered what would have happened if she'd not had to flee their wedding day; if she'd not climbed into bed with a drunken Robert the previous night, believing in her own drunken state that she'd gone to Adhemar. With no fire lit and no candles burning, it had only been in the light of morning that they'd been found out. She could still hear Katherine's shocked exclamations and those threats made to the servant who'd come with her to wake Robert.

'What have you done, the both of you? You've ruined it all!'

It had been Katherine who'd planned their escape from the manor; Katherine who'd told them what to do. Katherine who held the power of her knowledge over them. Since that day, she'd wielded that power as a sword, an ever-present threat. Anne was tired of it, yet didn't know how to negate it. Robert had told her to leave it be. The past was gone and unchangeable. Katherine, he maintained, had always been a manipulative bitch and would remain so until the day she died. Where did she think Adhemar had gotten his tendency towards manipulation?

Anne slid her plate away. Robert had cheerfully accepted the role of family rogue, a role that Adhemar had been intent upon usurping until recently. Her gaze found Jocelyn, now playing some sort of game with Amelie.

Adhemar had developed feelings for Jocelyn. To those who knew him well, it was plain that he was falling in love with her. Anne well remembered his behavior in love. Once, she'd been on the receiving end.

"Quit watching him, girl," came Katherine's voice in her left ear. "You gave him up, remember?"

Anne went to rise and leave without comment to those goading words, but Katherine placed both hands on her shoulders, forcing her to stay.

"Jeopardize this marriage and you _will_ regret it."

"He's been doing a marvelous job of that himself," she spat, then gasped as Katherine dug her fingers in.

"Be that as it may, you'll do all you can to aid him in wooing that silly creature he's chosen."

The 'or else' was implied and Katherine's threat the same one she always used: Adhemar would find out that Anne had gone to Robert that night long ago instead of having been carted off by him early the next morning.

"How do you propose I do that…_madame_?"

"You girls are very alike, I think. Talk him up. Play the part assigned to you by your own actions."

"If I might remind you, you _suggested_ that action."

Her shoulders were squeezed again, Katherine's fingers bruising. Anne knew she'd show the marks later. "You should have been strong enough of mind to make your own decision. I've no sympathy for a woman weak-willed enough to do what she's told without comment."

Katherine made it clear she despised Anne. Every word, every glance was to that end. Anne was the temptress who'd engineered her brother's fall from familial grace and broke her son's heart, yet at the same time was a weak, spineless creature who'd allowed herself to be manipulated.

God only knew what she thought of Robert for following her advice.

For the rest of the day, nothing went right and Anne was glad when it was over so she could huddle under the covers and pretend she wasn't ready to burst into tears. She rested her head on Robert's chest. Their children were asleep and the manor quiet. She'd been doing a lot of thinking since Jocelyn had come, about lies and the harm they did. Lies had shaped Adhemar well into the man he was today.

"I want us to go to Adhemar and tell him the truth."

One of Robert's hands stroked her hair. "The time to tell him is long passed, my love. We should have done so that very morning instead of taking Katherine's advice. But then…I've never thought clearly after a night of heavy drink."

Neither of them had ever drunk that much again.

"The truth will out eventually and I'd rather it be on our terms," she argued.

"Not when he could toss us into the street, Anne. When we've some measure of financial security we'll tell him, but not a second sooner."

Sitting up, she looked down at him. "So that's the reason this time? What will it be when we're secure again? That we're too busy? Robert I can't do this anymore! Katherine is insufferable this time!"

"Katherine is always insufferable for one reason or another," he countered in a soothing tone. "We'll tell him. We will. Think Anne. It's winter. You know Adhemar and what he's like. In a fit of temper, he'd toss us out and only when we're sick and dying from the cold would he perhaps reconsider. It's how he is. You and I could bear it, but our babies?" He sat as well, cupping her face with both hands, thumbs sweeping her cheekbones. "Wait for their sake."

Grudgingly she agreed, resigning herself to weeks more of Katherine's needling and the guilt that rose when she saw Adhemar. When he wasn't here it was easy to forget, yet when he was….Anne hated herself.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 7  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.  
Notes: Many thanks for the kind reviews!

* * *

Adhemar seemed to be under the impression that Jocelyn's continued funk was solely due to her lost love. It wasn't, though she didn't disabuse him of that notion. The secondary cause of her sadness was the seemingly endless parade of empty days blending into weeks to make months. Some days, her loneliness crashed over her so hard that she felt as though she was drowning in it. She'd no one friend to share her thoughts, hopes, and fears with like she'd had in Christiana.

It wasn't just Christiana she missed. She missed Will far more, but as the days passed, it had become…bearable. She could get through a day without wanting to die from the loss of him; could think of something save her own feelings and even began to see the immediate world around her once more. She began to notice that the sun occasionally did still shine in the sky.

To herself she admitted that she still held a tiny hope that they could be together someday. It wasn't a large hope, yet it remained there in her heart.

Turning from the window, Jocelyn walked the manor halls until she heard Adhemar's voice. He was in consultation with the stewards, arguing with them over some matter and she peered into the room to watch. Never once did he let them forget he was in charge, taking them to task for any wastefulness he'd encountered.

She _did_ like his voice. When he wasn't shouting or being nasty it was quite pleasant to listen to. In fact, she'd become very used to hearing his instructions to Germaine when he came to their chamber at night. Adhemar always told Germaine what he expected for the next morning. Jocelyn would keep her back to them and pretend to be asleep, all the while listening to him talk. On occasion he would inquire if she was awake before accepting her silence and blowing out the candle.

He stopped talking, looking up and over at her. "Jocelyn?"

She hurried away before he could call her over. Of late, she'd felt torn regarding him. His letters had proven a fascination she couldn't release. One by one, she read the letters from the past two years, pondering upon each one those things she learned about him. He admitted himself to be sarcastic, cynical, and unbending on many things, yet at the same time, she'd noticed sensitivity in certain areas. Like his young cousins. He was very fond of them all even if he wasn't of their parents. He wrote of seeing Piers in a household he'd visited and how the boy had taken to the sword and was hopeless at a bow and arrow. He wrote of visiting an artisan just to buy a doll for Amelie and how pleased he'd been to pick one out for her.

He'd written of wanting a wife and how he'd planned to enter tournament again -- not only for the prestige that winning the title of 'Champion' again would bring, but also for the ease in looking over fresh maidens. He'd well-known men brought their daughters to tournament in hopes of snagging a winning competitor. As a former World Champion he'd gambled his chances of finding a good match in a single season were excellent. And so he'd glimpsed Jocelyn, setting in motion the events that would change all their lives in one way or another.

She took her sewing to the Great Hall and sat on the bench before the fire, thanking Germaine when he brought her a blanket for warmth. He was always doing things like that for her even though it wasn't a part of his duties. Jocelyn half suspected he was keeping an eye on her per Adhemar's orders, but Germaine was always so very nice to her that she thought she'd excuse him for it. Adhemar had been right. Germaine did take good care of her.

"Do you think you're the only woman who ever lost love?" Anne sat down beside her, startling her, her gaze searching and very tired, as though she'd not been sleeping well at night. Perhaps she wasn't. Katherine had been worse than ever with snide remarks, haranguing Anne at every opportunity. It had to be hard for Anne to be a guest in Adhemar's house when she was used to having her own.

When Jocelyn had caught her breath again, she said, "You jest. You love Robert." The two were always laughing and talking with loving emotion in their eyes -- something she didn't think she'd ever have with Adhemar.

"I have affection for Robert," Anne corrected, then bit her lip a moment before continuing, "I don't love him."

Jocelyn studied her. It sure looked like Anne loved Robert to her. "You _must_ love him. You laugh and joke, tease him and…you have several children," she protested.

"A decade makes a woman know her husband well. I laugh and joke and tease because it's how our relationship has come to be. Robert likes to laugh. He loves a good joke and he only teases those he likes. As for children, love isn't needed for conception, Jocelyn. Surely you know that."

She looked away, cheeks suddenly warm. Yes, she knew it. "Well, it should be."

Anne laughed, but it was a gentle one, of amusement. "Then there'd rarely be any children would there? How often is there real love in a marriage?" Picking up Jocelyn's embroidery, she said, "I can have affection for him without loving him. Just be glad you weren't stolen on your wedding day, kidnapped from your intended. By the time anyone realized what had happened, we were gone, and not a week later I was his wife in name and deed."

"He manipulated you?" Turning her head, Jocelyn sought out Robert. He'd been nothing but kind and courteous to her and appeared to adore Anne and their children. She couldn't imagine him forcing Anne to do anything at all. "Robert did?" Surely it wasn't true?

"He offered to make right what had been done. He didn't have to. He could have left me disgraced. Instead, he gave an alternative."

"And in that emotional state--"

"I agreed. I made that choice. I left Adhemar and married Robert."

Jocelyn's breath left her for a long moment and she gasped. "Adhemar! I don't…."

"It was Adhemar I was to marry; Adhemar I was stolen from."

"How did I not know this?" She thought she'd known much about him, but this? It was a surprise. How had the gossip been kept silent from such a thing?

"It happened when we were still very young and the family tried to keep it quiet. Our wedding was going to be a small affair anyway. Only family and servants know better than to talk. Neither Adhemar's family nor mine are tolerant of loose lips unless those lips benefit the family well." She put the embroidery back down. "We all do things, both good and bad, in moments of extreme emotional distress." Her stare was hard. "What decisions are you making and how are they affecting your household?"

Jocelyn shook her head. "I'm exactly what Adhemar claimed he wanted."

Anne snorted. "If he truly wanted that dull miss, then why did he pursue the very antithesis of her? You deceive yourself. Adhemar wanted you no matter the goading words that left his lips."

"And he got me, didn't he?"

"But not the woman he thought he was getting."

"I can't be her, Anne. I can't. Will's smile, his voice…it's all still in my mind."

Anne's hand clasped hers. "It will be for a long time. You can't undo this, Jocelyn. You have to let him go. You can't not live your life."

Thrusting Anne's hands from her, she stood. "Watch me."

* * *

For days, Will had been trying to make a decision regarding himself and Christiana, well aware that something needed to change. He disliked the need to put Jocelyn away, but it wasn't fair to Christiana to be called 'wife' without being on in full. Nor, he decided, was it fair to himself. He was denying circumstances had changed and living in a past that was gone. By keeping Jocelyn in his thoughts, he couldn't put Christiana there and she was the one he needed to be thinking about. He needed to think of her as his, for they'd the rest of their entire lives to live. If he continued to wish for Jocelyn, Christiana could grow bitter and angry and what sort of years would they have then? He'd seen miserable couples before and always sworn he'd never be a part of one.

Kate was right. All of her counsel led to this. He had to forget Jocelyn to make this marriage to Christiana work. How was he going to go about it?

For starters, he stopped leaving their room immediately after dressing, talking to her -- which had gotten easier as Kate had promised. Christiana responded by easing from bed and dressing. He could see her hands shaking, yet they both ignored it, pretending this was an everyday occurrence. Ultimately, that insistence on pretending made it easier to stay. Secondly, he presented the screen to her, letting himself enjoy the hug she'd given him in thanks. Finally, he began coming to their room just when she'd be in her bath.

They were little things really. Each went a long way towards easing him to her. He put his mind to it and what William Thatcher put his mind to, he damn well accomplished if it was within his power. He was going to bring himself into the present. With his wife. If it killed him.

* * *

Something had changed between them and there'd been no warning, nothing that told Christiana it was coming. They simply went to bed one evening and the very next day was different. She'd woken to find a query in his gaze, questions there that he didn't speak aloud. Unable to think how to reply when she didn't know the specific questions, Christiana had remained silent.

Will had gotten dressed and once more broke their routine by staying while she dressed, chatting with her about plans for the day and things he'd forgotten to tell her the previous night. He'd watched her, but not steadily. She'd notice him looking at her and her hands would shake, yet when she glanced back up, he was looking elsewhere. He'd remained while Kate brushed out her hair and braided two sections, then held out his arm for her to take as they left the chamber.

He was calmer than he'd been, awkward no longer, and very much the man who'd wooed Jocelyn. Had his eyes finally turned her way? Christiana didn't dare believe it. She must be imagining things is all. He'd always been this way, she decided. That awkwardness had merely been her projecting her own uncertainty into their interactions.

Days went by in a quick rush, the temperatures starting to warm slightly. No longer were the breezes frigid and icy, merely cold and chilly.

Will came in the Hall and strode to her, a mischievous grin tugging his lips. Holding out a hand, he waited until she set one of hers on it, then bowed and kissed the back. "I've a surprise for you," he murmured.

"What is it?" Knowing him it could be anything.

"Can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not quite ready yet." With a tug, she was yanked to her feet, him leading her out of the Hall and into the kitchen where they watched Agnes assisting John with food preparations. By now, Agnes and John were used to interruptions and carried on without stopping. The two had settled easily into the household.

From the Hall came several loud bangs and thuds, followed by cursing in three male voices. Will's grin widened.

"Can't you at least hint what it is," she asked, attempting to decipher anything at all from those noises.

He shook his head, grin never lessening. "No."

Finally, George came through the doorway, his face red and breaths gasping. "All set, my lord."

Now she was tugged into the Hall, but her surprise wasn't there. Will led her up the stairs and into their chamber, drawing her in front of him. Before the fireplace, right by the bathing tub, was a screen. It was wood and someone had painted a bold design on the three panels.

"For me?"

"I know you get cold in your baths and this should help with the drafts."

Turning, Christiana threw her arms about him. "Thank you!"

He returned the embrace, his arms squeezing, face turning into her hair.

A few nights later, he came in while Kate was assisting her in her bath. They'd been having a lovely chat about Kate's adventures during tournament when he'd walked in as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Though startled, Christiana made herself sit in the water and not reach for one of the cloths Kate held.

He remained on the other side of the screen and Christiana was very aware of his presence there.

She dismissed Kate. "It's late. Don't wait for me to finish. Find your bed."

With a speculative glance towards the other side of the screen, Kate set the cloths on the stool. "You're certain?"

Christiana also looked at the screen, her heart beating very fast. She nodded. "Yes."

Before she left, Kate laid a clean shift across the top of the screen.

Will was in bed when she emerged from behind that screen, the covers bunched at his waist and his hands behind his head. Christiana let her gaze linger on that bare chest. "We need to find you a maid," he remarked, staring up at the ceiling. "Kate spends half her time yawning these days. I worry she's trying to do too much in addition to her business."

"I've tried to tell her I can manage without her," she said, crossing to her side of the bed and blowing out the candle before climbing in. He was nearly in the middle of the bed, leaving her little room. Uncertain if she should just ask him to move over, Christiana laid on her side facing him. "She insists I need her."

"You need _someone_. It's expected. I'll speak to Agnes in the morning. We might be able to find a girl nearby you can train." He turned his head on the pillow, looking at her. "You don't have to sleep on the little section, you know. I don't bite. Come here."

Carefully, she slid across the remaining inches that separated them, putting her head on his chest as he indicated. One arm went around her. It was comfortable, but where did she put her hand? On his chest? He solved the dilemma for her, clasping her hand in his. She was surprised how quickly she fell asleep.

The tone of their relationship changed a bit more, subtly shifting until she felt an undercurrent of expectation whenever he was in the room with her. He had a way of making her feel she was the only woman he saw, despite her knowing he had to still be wanting Jocelyn. Was this how Jocelyn had felt? Her day brightened when he was there with her -- even if they were both in a foul mood. Arguments were an excuse to do something thoughtful later in the day to make up for it and she couldn't stop looking at him and marveling that he was hers. The weeks were hours and how was it possible that time flew so swiftly?

In one month the new tournament season would begin.

* * *

Kate had already put in a busy day when a voice intruded upon her inner musings.

"Good afternoon. I wonder if I might intrude?"

Turning, she found Gavin before her and smiled. "Can you pay? I don't work for free."

"No one does," he said, returning her smile, "and yes, I can pay."

"Then you may intrude."

He needed her skills to re-shoe his horse. As she worked to remedy his situation, they chatted in an amiable fashion. Kate had always found him agreeable and though it'd irk Wat to know it, attractive. He'd a violent and immediate dislike to Gavin on their journey here. The attraction she had to Gavin wasn't the same sort she'd had to Geoff, but rather the same one she had for Will. Given enough time, she thought she and Gavin could be friends. She trusted him without knowing how she knew she could.

"So what brings you this way?"

Walking about her work area, he studied it and then the grounds outside. "Business for my lord."

"What sort?"

Gavin glanced over his shoulder at her. "Oh, you know. This and that. He's a venture that may pan out and bring him some well-needed funds. Circumstances haven't been the best for him of late. I'm…investigating the possibilities of that venture while he deals with other matters."

Kate paused. Hadn't he claimed to be a miller? "You said you were a miller," she reminded him.

He laughed and nodded. "Yes, well, I've been one when I've had to. I'm rather like your Wat, I suppose. My work title doesn't encompass all of the duties I'm bidden to perform."

"He's not _my_ Wat, Gavin."

Amusement danced in his eyes, lips quirking up just a little. "Would he do anything for you, Kate?"

She thought about it a moment. He would and had. "I suppose."

"Then he _is_ yours."

"I don't care to test your theory." The words came out in a snippy tone and Kate saw Gavin's little smile fade.

"Such things are always tested eventually, I've found." He returned to her work surface and shrugged. "It's like the saying 'the truth will out'. There's no escaping either."

An odd expression lingered upon his almost fine features, but Kate didn't know him well enough to figure it out. Instead, she completed her task and when he'd paid, she asked, "Are you and your lord near here?" His clothes didn't carry any crest that she saw.

Gavin paused before answering, as though he had to word it carefully. "Not usually, no. Like I said, his circumstances took a downfall, so we're not at his home. We're lodging elsewhere at present, but yes, we're near if an hour north can be called near."

"Perhaps you'll travel this way again, then."

"Perhaps," he agreed with a nod of his head. "And perhaps I'll see you at tournament if your lord goes. Mine doesn't plan to compete, though he does plan to attend."

"Sir William will be competing."

"Best of luck to him then. I wish him many glorious wins."

Kate watched him go and stood still for long moments after he was out of her sight. She'd the strangest feeling that Gavin was warning her about something.

* * *

Robert had a plan to rebuild his wealth. If it went well, then he'd gain untold of riches in a quick amount of time. He didn't tell Anne, as she wouldn't approve at all, yet neither did he tell Adhemar. Adhemar _would_ approve. However, he'd likely want far more of the potential profits than Robert was already going to give him. Therefore, Robert saw no need to actually inform Adhemar of his plan. Why give an already wealthy man even more wealth when Robert and family needed it more?

He'd sent his man out to investigate and hoped to have his plan finalized soon. When done, he swore he'd never go to such lengths ever again.

Stepping into the Hall, he noticed Jocelyn and Anne together by the fire. To his surprise, gloomy Jocelyn was smiling. Whatever Anne was saying had her even laughing, so it was a good thing she'd not noticed Adhemar in his usual place at the upstairs railing. Robert hoped that someday Jocelyn would realize there was far more to Adhemar than the man she'd seen at tournament. Adhemar was never at his best when in the throes of anger at an opponent.

God knew Adhemar wasn't a saint -- far from it --, but he did care for Jocelyn. It was obvious in how he looked at her even. He'd been attempting in recent weeks to make her perform various household duties only to be thwarted in those attempts by Katherine, who staunchly refused to relinquish the tasks. The household had been hers to oversee for far too long and she saw no reason to let her grip on it go. After despairing that her favorite son would wed, she now refused to believe he had.

Likely aided well by the fact that the entire household knew Jocelyn and Adhemar hadn't been intimate these long weeks. That one secret was very hard to keep. Strange that Jocelyn and Adhemar seemed to believe no one knew, especially since servants were in and out of Adhemar's chambers at all hours for various reasons. If the household was smaller, with only a handful of servants, Robert could see how such a secret could be kept. The only reason his and Anne's indiscretion had been kept secret had been largely due to Katherine's threats and the large quantity of alcohol the household at large had drunk that previous night.

Robert knew very well what Katherine was thinking. Jocelyn wasn't performing her wifely duty in the bedroom, so she wasn't being a wife, ergo she'd no place to take over household duties.

Rather than argue, Jocelyn had let Katherine continue. Robert often wondered what would happen when Jocelyn got it into her head to be a wife in full. He suspected Katherine would not be long in the household.

* * *

Adhemar fantasized about Jocelyn. He thought about her warm and willing so much that it was painful when the real Jocelyn entered the room and a cold wall went up between them. How could he change that? He didn't have a single idea. Women didn't make much sense half the time and Jocelyn even less. He'd never quite understood her. She rarely reacted the way he expected a woman to react and it was vexing him horribly.

Was Uncle right? Should he let Anne tell her? What good would it do save bring her pity down on him and pity was the last thing he wanted from her.

As a consequence to his odd uncertainty on what to do, he began walk the manor at all hours of day and night, his insomnia flaring up and leaving him short on sleep. Jocelyn, of course, looked well rested. He'd even noticed her wearing something other than black, brown, and navy. Granted it was dark green, but it was a change.

To himself, he mentally counted the days until tournament season. Twenty. While he despised admitting it, he needed help with Jocelyn and there was only one person he knew who'd ever handled her well.

William Thatcher.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 8  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

* * *

"My wife thinks me an unfeeling, uncaring monster."

Jocelyn ignored the musician strumming one of her favorite tunes on a lute nearby and tried to overhear Adhemar's mumblings. He was working himself up to being rip-roaring drunk, consuming drink as fast as it could be poured into his cup. The servants were staying far away from him as much as possible and Katherine had already taken herself off to bed for the night.

It was Anne pouring for him, nodding in a wise manner at most anything he said. It was the first time in weeks they'd been semi-courteous to each other. "Actually, it's your men who think you are unfeeling, Adhemar. You must admit you're an inhuman bastard at times."

He shrugged. "The better example I am, the higher they have to reach as soldiers. Edward's worse with his men. They should be grateful I don't send them all to him. Then they'd see what a lenient master I am."

Jocelyn's brows rose. Adhemar lenient? In what warped world did he imagine that to be true?

"As for the uncaring part, I don't think that's true, either," Anne went on with a half smile. "I think your wife full realizes that you're simply an insensitive ass with no idea how much mourning is required to get over the shining warm love of another." Her pleasant tone belied the bite of the words.

Turning his head, he stared at her with a quizzical tilt of his head. Jocelyn could almost see him trying to work out what Anne meant. He frowned, blinked, then downed the last of his drink and held out his cup for more. Anne obliged almost too quickly. Jocelyn wondered if getting Adhemar drunk was her aim to begin with. Adhemar must be quite drunk already as he didn't react to Anne's barbs -- _any_ of them and she'd been free with her comments.

"Uncle," Adhemar called. "How long did it take Anne to get over me? I mean, get over her love?" His words slurred a little.

Jocelyn gasped. "You really did it," she hissed at Robert. "You stole your own nephew's bride?" Until now, she'd entertained the notion that Anne was not telling the truth.

Robert's grin was slow and unrepentant, though the expression in his eyes was guarded. "It was an excellent idea at the time. I needed a bride far more than he did." His voice raised. "Months and months, nephew. Until our first son was born a year after the day."

"Did she lie still in bed those months," Adhemar asked, draining his cup once more and slamming it down onto the table. "I mean, did her lost love keep her from performing her wifely duties at all?"

Robert pursed his lips, all levity leaving him as he shifted in his seat. "It's in the past, Adhemar. Let it go."

That particular mantra appeared to be that for his entire family. 'Let the past go.' No, Jocelyn thought, we certainly wouldn't want to recall it and actually _learn_ something from past events, would we?

Adhemar snorted and got unsteadily to his feet. "I will not let it go." Placing his hands on the table, he leaned down to Anne and smiled drunkenly at her. "I ask only for comparison purposes. Anne. Dearest Aunt. Obviously Uncle uncrossed your legs immediately since he carried you off for such a purpose and since you gave birth only months later, but did you enjoy it? Did that warm shining love you claim you felt from me keep you still and like a corpse or did you welcome him? You must have both welcomed and enjoyed, for you _did_ conceive and everyone knows that for a woman to conceive she has to enjoy it. Which means you're a lying whore."

Anne's eyes blazed ire. Standing, she slapped him so hard it turned his head. Pushing her chair back farther, she bumped the table in her haste to flee, the pitcher of wine turning on its side and spilling across the table. Adhemar made a grab for her, but Anne hurried out of reach. A few moments later a door slammed upstairs.

Jocelyn was embarrassed for her. Knowing what had happened those years ago had helped her to understand in turn what went on now, though she didn't like those taunts the two loosed at each other. "I think you've had enough to drink, Adhemar."

His laugh was ugly. "I've not had enough." Righting the pitcher, he peered into it, then poured the dregs into his cup. "When I've had enough I'll tell you I've had enough and not a moment sooner." He chugged the liquid. "Germaine! Bring me wine!"

Germaine had already been dismissed for the evening and even if he hadn't been, Jocelyn had had enough. "You're drunk," she told Adhemar, not bothering to hide the curl of disgust to her lips. She despised drunken men. They all thought they were witty when the opposite was true. "And belligerent."

"So what if I am? It's my house. I can be both drunk and belligerent if I choose." He looked about the room. "Where the devil is Germaine?"

Robert touched her arm, speaking low only to her. "Go on up. I'll bring him in a minute."

She was at the top of the stairs when she heard the crash and turned to see Adhemar on the ground flat on his back. Robert was massaging one fist. She gave a silent prayer that morning would not be difficult, but knew it would be. Adhemar would have a terrible hangover when he woke.

Perhaps she'd rise early just this once. It might be best to be away from him when he remembered what had occurred.

* * *

She'd been reading his letters. Not just the recent ones, but the older ones his mother kept claiming she'd like to reread someday. He knew otherwise. She was hardly a sentimental woman like she endeavored to portray for others. It was another one of her shows.

Adhemar knelt, grasping the trunk edge, the gift he'd bartered for Jocelyn placed beneath her embroidery. He stared at the letter rolls and the one opened flat on top, pondering what it meant that she had them. It meant she was curious about him but didn't want him to be aware of her curiosity.

"What are you doing," came Jocelyn's cry from behind him. She came into view, hurrying to kneel beside him, her hands shoving his from the trunk edge and closing the lid with a slam. "Rifling through my belongings? Invading my privacy? How could you?"

"How could _you_," he returned. "Those letters of mine were put away, which means, I should point out, that _you_ rifled through _my_ possessions to find them."

Jocelyn gasped, protesting, "It was your mother's possessions, not yours." She moved up onto the trunk, keeping him from raising the lid back up.

"Oh, and that makes it better, does it?" Adhemar cocked a brow at her.

She did the same. "Anne did it first."

"While she does deserve some blame, you now pass it all onto her? What a friend. I'd hate to be your enemy with such an endearing show of loyalty."

"Katherine won't even notice anyway. She never looks at the trunk they were in, evidenced by the dust inside. I about choked to death from it the first time I looked for letters."

The first time? How many times had she gone looking? "So you snuck in to my mother's chambers, snooped in her things to find letters I'd written, then stole them?"

"They're not stolen," she informed him with a sniff. "I have every intention of returning them when I'm done reading."

Adhemar laughed. He couldn't help it. It was too amusing to think of Jocelyn managing to snoop without his mother knowing, for it was certain she didn't know. She'd put up a fuss if she'd discovered the theft. He knew something his well-informed mother didn't and that pleased him more than a little.

"You're laughing at me," she stated, crossing her arms.

"Hardly. I laugh because mother is unaware of your actions when she seems to know everything else that goes on."

She glanced at the door. "I bribed her maid to keep her occupied."

Sitting fully on the floor, Adhemar raised a knee and rest one arm on it, sighing. "If you were so determined to learn about me, why did you not ask what you wished to know?"

"And have you laugh at me like you always do when you think I'm being a silly girl?"

She had a point, though he disliked admitting it. "Tell me what you've learned so far from my letters."

Jocelyn turned her head back to stare at him, then nodded. "You don't dance often because you prefer older music and the newer music and modern dances make you feel grossly uncoordinated and clumsy."

"I never wrote that." But he'd alluded to it several times hadn't he?

"Of course you did. You just used different words to say it." A smug grin curved her lips.

Adhemar blinked. Was she actually smiling in his presence? He wished he'd some way to capture that expression, for he was certain it'd disappear soon enough. "Fine. Continue."

"You despise being fitted for clothes, but consider it a necessary evil. Green was your favorite color up until a few months ago when blue was suddenly far more pleasing to look upon. I do so wonder why you changed your mind on that?" Her brows rose in challenge.

"You know why."

"Admit it, Adhemar. Admit the reason out loud."

Glancing away, then back, he shook his head. "I don't have to."

Calculation flared in her eyes and she leaned forward a fraction. "Too frightened to? Not man enough to admit to something so very petty?"

She was baiting him. Intentionally baiting him. Tilting his head a little, he studied her more closely…and saw a piece of the old Jocelyn staring back at him. "I leave pettiness to the women."

"Obviously you don't, or do you not recall tipping a lance? I did hear about that, you realize."

Adhemar held up a finger. "First, that was not pettiness, it was anger. And second, I'm master here and answer to no one."

Leaning down a bit more so that her face was close to his, she bit out quite clearly, "You're too scared."

"Am not." He couldn't help that rising to her bait though he knew he shouldn't do it.

"Oh but you are." Jocelyn sat up straight, her hands behind her on the chest. "You are so scared to admit --"

"I'm scared of nothing."

"Prove it," she said.

And then the words fell from his tongue. "I dislike green because it reminds me of one I'd rather forget. Blue is pleasing as it has no such odious remembrance attached to it. In fact, blue is a color you look beautiful in."

Surprise blotted out the calculation. She'd not expected him to answer, had she? Adhemar was pleased to have caught her off-guard that way. Her mouth opened and closed several times. After a moment, she went on to the next item in her list of things she'd learned.

"You like children and appear to have a better rapport with them than you do adults."

"Children are the greatest gift from God. I think we should have several." He could imagine her big with child with ease, yet he rarely indulged himself in such imaginings. Contemplating that future when it didn't seem possible at present merely depressed him.

Jocelyn looked away. "I agree to the first, but not the second."

He pretended ignorance to her meaning and asked, "Then how many would you prefer?"

There was a long silence and then, "If I must, and I'm aware I must eventually, I'd wish for a son for you and a daughter for me, after which my obligation is done. I'll have born an heir."

"And what if that son dies? Would you then be obliged to bear another?"

There was a longer silence. "That's the way of it, isn't it?"

"Yes. It is. But tell me Jocelyn, what will you do if, in the process of having these children, you find your heart has become attached to me as well? Would your wish stand then?"

With a long breath, she stood, ignoring his question.. "If you don't mind, I've sewing to attend to."

"So attend."

"It's in my trunk."

When she reached down for the sewing, she'd find the gift he'd bartered for her at great expense: a few pages of poems. The very sort of thing she liked. Let her then try to claim he had no care for her whatsoever. Adhemar nodded once. "I suppose I'll leave you to it, then. And to my letters." He stood and, at last glance from the door, he saw her raise the slim book, a cry of surprise from her, and left before she could say anything at all.

* * *

How did he know?

Jocelyn pondered the question as Bess brushed her hair. She supposed her love of poetry could be considered common knowledge for many. After all, she _had_ demanded poetry from Will in that very public cathedral. Anyone could have overheard and it wouldn't have surprised her anymore to learn Adhemar had sent a man to follow her and report back to him.

But to purchase a book for poems for her…. It presented a problem. The gift was expensive and Adhemar was not a man to part with money for a frivolous item unless it was mostly for him. However, this wasn't for him. He hated poetry, disdained it as 'silly and sentimental rubbish with no purpose but to fill women's empty heads with illogical longings'. This gift was for her alone, also evidenced by the fact that he'd slipped it into her trunk. He meant it for her.

The problem was huge. Jocelyn could no longer claim he'd no affection for her, for only affection would cause him to part with money for a gift of a thing he himself hated. She couldn't say he'd given it to soften her so she'd be agreeable in bed, for she'd not fought him at all. He'd no reason to give that gift unless he cared enough to give something he knew she'd like.

The beginnings of a headache throbbed in her temples and Jocelyn raised her fingertips to rub her temples. "Don't braid it tonight, Bess."

"It'll tangle if I don't, my lady. We'll have a terrible time brushing it out in the morning."

"I'll bear the consequences of my decision with no grumbling, I assure you." Turning, she looked at the young woman. Bess was no Christiana, yet she wasn't terrible either. She simply needed time to grow into her duties. Jocelyn was becoming more certain each day that she could trust Bess not to talk to others of the matters they discussed. So far, none of the things she'd mentioned had made the rounds of gossip. "You can go now."

Bess bit her lip and clasped her hands together in front of her. "Begging your pardon, my lady, but is something bothering you?"

Jocelyn gestured to the book of poems. "I don't know what to make of that."

"Did the master give you that?"

"Yes. Put it in my trunk earlier so I'd find it when I reached for my sewing."

She smiled. "Germaine does things like that for me sometimes. It's sweet."

"Sweet?" Sweet was one of the last words she'd even use to describe Adhemar.

"Very." Going to the bed, Bess picked up Jocelyn's robe and brought it to her. "Normally, I'd not call the master sweet you realize, but him giving you that when you like poetry so much…. It's sweet. And thoughtful. He's trying to woo you. I'm happy for you, my lady."

"You are?"

"Of course." Now Bess stepped to the bed, turning down the covers as she talked. "What happened after the tournament season was terrible. Why, I don't know how I would've reacted if I'd been in your place! Germaine has been my only love and I can't imagine a life without him. But you're such a strong woman, accepting my lord after what he'd done! I admire you so much, to tell the truth."

Jocelyn wasn't sure how to feel about that pronouncement. "My life doesn't glitter, Bess. I'm not strong like you think."

"You handle the master well enough. He gave you a gift. Do you not see how remarkable that is? Adhemar doesn't give gifts. Ever. You're changing him, my lady."

Hearing voices in the hallway, she gave Bess a stern look. "Enough of that. It remains to seen whether he's changed or not. Don't be expecting miracles."

Jocelyn remained wide awake as hours passed. The realization that tournament was coming up had her both excited for it and dreading it. They'd be scrutinized, all of them. Her and Adhemar and Will. She fully expected him to be there. Tournament had become his way of life by the end. There was no way he wouldn't be there.

She heard Adhemar come into the chamber, give his instructions to Germaine and undress. The bed dipped as he slid beneath the sheets with her and moved close. One arm wrapped about her, dragging her against him before he rubbed that hand up and down her arm. His lips touched her ear.

"Do you think you could possibly take over the household tasks from mother anytime soon," he whispered. "She's driving everyone around her insane. I had no less than eleven servants come to me today about her."

He knew she was awake. Jocelyn licked her lips and opened her eyes. She should have known he'd know. He always had before. "Katherine refuses to allow me."

Adhemar stilled, his hand tightening on her arm a fraction. "What do you mean she won't allow you? Why ever not?"

For a moment, she considered how to say it and decided blunt was best. He'd prefer it that way. "She knows we haven't been…intimate," she stumbled over the word, "since arriving here. She claims I'm no true wife to you."

"When did she say this to you?"

Not long after Jocelyn had told her it was none of her business. Should she tell him it had gone on that far back? "Weeks ago."

"Hell!" Releasing her, he kicked the covers off. "How does she dare?" He left the bed, reaching for his clothes. "Get up. Get dressed."

What did he plan? Jocelyn dressed, contemplating the question as Adhemar dragged on his own clothes with constant muttering. They were probably the only ones left awake aside from the night watch. What could he possibly do at this hour? "Adhemar?"

"Come." One hand latched on her arm, pulling her out of the chamber and into the corridor to his mother's door. He banged a fist on it. "Wake up, mother."

The panel opened, Katherine peering sleepily at them. "I trust you've a good reason for waking me at this hour? The house burning down about our ears perhaps?"

"Who is this woman beside me?"

Jocelyn flinched from his tone. His mother merely clasped her hands together.

"Jocelyn."

"And what is she to me?"

Understanding lit Katherine's gaze and she was suddenly more alert than she'd been. "You tell me."

His hand squeezed Jocelyn's arm. "My wife. She's my wife."

Jocelyn watched Katherine carefully, but that one only tilted her head.

"In word or deed?"

"Both."

Katherine's brows rose. "Liar," she said slowly, dragging the word out.

"You'll treat her with the respect due to her."

"Respect must be earned and she's not earned it."

The door slammed in their faces and Jocelyn heard the bar being dropped across it. One glance at Adhemar showed him growing angrier by the second, murder in his gaze and his face turning an alarming shade of purple.

"Old woman," he roared, releasing Jocelyn, both hands pounding on the door "Open this door! I'll have it broken down, you miserable meddling hag!"

Jocelyn touched his arm. "Perhaps this isn't the time for this," she suggested. Servants were beginning to appear in the hallway, curious as to what was going on. Katherine knew the truth, that Adhemar hadn't touched Jocelyn in weeks, and she knew because the servants had informed her. Bess, ever loyal, had sniffed in annoyance at her fellow servants and exclaimed it wasn't their business what went on between the master and mistress at night. It was only going to get worse if Jocelyn and Adhemar didn't do something. Anne and Robert's door opened, both of them peering out into the hall as well. Anne, Jocelyn noticed, hadn't bothered braiding her hair either.

"You're lucky I don't turn you out this instant," Adhemar threatened, voice a bellow that surely the watch outside heard.

She glanced at the faces watching, felt a sinking in her heart, and did the only thing she could think of to both stop him and make those watching think that perhaps they didn't have all the information they thought they did.

Jocelyn grabbed Adhemar's face in her hands, rose up on her tip-toes and kissed him full on the lips.

His attention was diverted towards her at a speed that was terrifying, but Jocelyn wouldn't let herself pull away too soon. She had to make a spectacle of them before those watching. She had to make them believe, so she stood kissing and being kissed in return, feeling his arms go about her squeezing the breath near from her. In those moments, Jocelyn discovered something that would certainly distress her to a great extent in the light of morning: his kisses weren't repugnant. In fact, she found it…enjoyable. Regrettably, terribly, confusingly enjoyable.

When she did raise back down and release him, his color was again normal and she thought he might be somewhat rational while she herself was fast losing that state. The anger was gone from his eyes, replaced with a speculation she didn't care to see. It was best if he didn't look at her that way.

"Now come back to bed." Jocelyn turned, walked a few paces and glanced back. "And for God's sake put the bar on the door. I'd have no thoughtless interruptions like we're usually subject to."

Bravado got her much in life, she'd found long ago. It had helped her with bold speech and much more and now she used it to advantage once more, walking into their chamber and undressing with the door still wide open. When she'd removed all but her shift and had loosened the drawstring so that the fabric slipped halfway down her back, she added, "You're keeping me waiting, Adhemar. You know very well I don't like to be kept waiting."

She stood still, waiting until she heard the door close and the bar drop before pulling the shift back up into place. Adhemar came to her, one hand on her back, halting the fabric, fingers tracing the line of her spine, his lips on her shoulder.

"You surprise me, Jocelyn."

"How so?"

His chin rested on her shoulder. "You played your part well out there."

"What else would you have had me do? Let the servants think they know all? Let your mother think she knows all? Were we to let them continue thus, your authority as lord would be questioned and I know you can't have that. A man is master in his home and no other. I know this."

"Mother _does_ know all, to an unfortunate degree." Releasing her, he began undressing. "That kiss was masterful, Jocelyn. Dare I think your heart is softening and your grief lessening? Will I soon have that temptress from tournament back?"

Jocelyn tied the drawstring on the neckline of her shift. "No," she informed him, skirting the end of the bed to reach her side of it. "That temptress never existed for you and I've no feelings for you, Adhemar. There is nothing in me that even cares one bit about you. I won't love you." She sat on the edge of the bed. It was a lie she told, for Jocelyn did care about him. What affected him, affected her in the end.

"Love is overrated. I'd rather have you a willing partner instead of how you've been these months."

"And that I cannot do either."

He crawled across the bed to recline behind her, one hand caressing the length of her hair. "Would you be able to move on in this life if you discovered he'd moved on from you?"

A glance showed only curiosity reflected upon his handsome features. "I don't know. Maybe. If Will was happy now…." Jocelyn bit her lip. "Adhemar, I'm tired and it's late."

"Then by all means, let us retire."

The question stayed with her. Could she resign herself to making a life with Adhemar if Will had become attached to another? Or would her heart break anew?

* * *

Never in his life had Adhemar ever expected Jocelyn to go to such lengths to give a single impression. He saw the servants eyes widen and his Uncle and Anne share an amused glance before he followed her into the chamber. He decided to lie abed awhile in the morning and let them all think about that. Adhemar never stayed in bed late. He preferred to be up and about, conducting business, training, and enjoying noble pursuits. This turn should give them pause.

Jocelyn gave him the perfect opening to tell her about Thatcher's wedding to Christiana and yet he held his tongue. Why? It likely wouldn't benefit him later when she found out he'd kept that information from her, but he didn't want to see her descend back into constant tears. Only recently had she begun to smile again, a smile that caused his heart to skip a beat in his chest and a tightness develop in his throat. It had become his personal battle to bring the old Jocelyn back and with such progress as he'd made in the past couple weeks, telling her the news would surely crush her.

And _then_ when would he have a willing wife? Never.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 9  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

* * *

The tournament year was upon them in just over a week. As the opening games were being held a mere two days away, Christiana saw no need to leave a week early. It was ridiculous to do so when it was so close. She crossed her arms and glared at Will. He was being completely unreasonable about this, unbending on his decision that they should all trot out there early and spend hard earned funds for no good reason. In fact, he was enthusiastic about it!

"We're leaving tomorrow and that's final," he told her, stopping his pacing long enough to glare back at her. His hair tumbled about his brow in a most pleasing fashion, but Christiana wouldn't allow herself to be distracted.

"I'm not going a week early. It makes no sense and will only cost us more money than we need to be spending."

Will leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling, hands on his hips. "It's tournament, Christiana. That means that whatever we spend will come back to us in winnings."

"You can't know that," she protested. "What will you do if you don't win, if someone else takes the prize?"

"I won't lose," he yelled, looking at her again with irritation on his features.

"Every man can lose," she yelled back, "Just look at what happened to Adhemar!" Probably not the best example to bring up, but one that accurately displayed her point. "He'd been champion for years and you toppled him from that." In a rather spectacular fashion, she added silently to herself.

His fists rose in the air, beating at the empty space around him in frustration. "I'm nothing like Adhemar. I know I'll win because I'm good at this life. I'm a good jouster."

"I'm not disputing that. But pride and arrogance are sins, Will. You begin to share that with Adhemar. I can see it. Wat and Kate can see it." She gestured at them. When Will looked their way, Kate contemplated the ceiling with wide eyes and Wat pursed his lips. It was clear neither wanted to say anything, for they both suddenly turned and fled rather than join in the argument. "Everyone can see it. You go to tournament like this and you'll lose immediately. Adhemar knew he was good, too."

"No. No, we're going. You're not going to dissuade me. Be ready to leave tomorrow morning."

If he thought he was giving the final word on this, then he had another thing coming, she decided. She had her own way of getting what she wanted. While men liked to think they ran their houses themselves, it was the wives who influenced household in the end. Time to use her influence.

* * *

It was simpler all the way around, Will found, not to rile his wife.

Morning found the wagon unpacked and the household still not ready for their departure. Nothing was ready despite having been planned for weeks. She'd somehow found a million and one other tasks for everyone to perform that were for some reason immediately necessary. After a frustrating few hours, Will went in search of Christiana, finding her in their chamber before the window, her sewing on her lap.

"I won't compromise with you. I won't bend on this." He stared at her.

She took a stitch and ignored him.

"Do you not see how important it is that we go early?"

Her silence was pointed.

Leaning against the doorframe, he sighed. "We'll leave tomorrow. Wat is overseeing the packing of the wagon as we…as _I _speak. We go early, Christiana, so that we can be seen. Isn't that what half of tournament is anyway? Seeing others and being seen? You were the one who said we had to give a certain appearance."

"Don't throw my words back at me." She looked up. "We should arrive only the day before it starts and not sooner. Until we see who is competing seriously, we need to keep a close eye on funds and not overstretch ourselves. My concern is for all of us, Will. I have as much a vested interest in our life together as you. You've taken my counsel before on other matters, so why won't you take it on this?"

There was a glimmer of hurt in her eyes and with a jolt, he realized that was what this was about. It wasn't about going to tournament, not really, it was about him not listening to her advice. "Yes, I've listened and followed before, but this time I choose not to take that advice. Can you be a good wife and do what I say?"

"I _am_ a good wife, for a good wife questions her husband when his decision," she stressed the next three words slowly, "makes no sense."

"Bluntly, _wife_, I like tournament and while I realize you may not have the same fervent liking as I, I want you there with me at the start. I don't want the others to say I've a wife who doesn't support me by not arriving with me."

"If we went when I want, then I'd still arrive with you and none could talk." One brow raised in challenge.

"Yes, but I want to go now. Can you not feel the thrill of the season already starting? I can. It sings in my veins. I can't wait to hear the crowd, to ride the field."

"To win horses and trophies," she snipped out.

Leaving the doorway, he went to her and sat beside her on the bench. "No, to provide for my wife, my family." They _were_ his family -- Christiana, Wat and Kate. "It's how I know to do that and I welcome the return of my chance to provide well. This is my income, Christiana, like a merchant with his goods or…or like Kate with her business. I'm excited to go." He took the sewing from her and set it aside, then took her hands in his. "Remember your first visit to tournament? The excitement, the thrill?"

"Mine doesn't compare to what you describe. I really do dislike most of the games, although…the swordfight is enjoyable." She looked down at their hands.

"You like the swordfight?" Why did that surprise him? It shouldn't, he decided, since she did come out to watch whenever he practiced his technique in the afternoons. It was obvious when he thought about it.

"Well, yes, but Jocelyn and I never could see much of it. Her father wanted her at the jousting. He said the men competing there were the cream of the crop. She'd find a better husband from among them." Her hands turned, clasping his in return. "There'll be little to do until the games start if we go now."

"Then you can spend time working with me on my reading and writing. Mark says I'm improving." He wasn't, but Mark was eager to please. After weeks, Will still couldn't make sense of those squiggles on parchment. He was too impatient to sit and study them the way Mark wanted, though he could write his name rather well now. He had both Mark and Christiana to read and write for him and he'd gotten by for years without that knowledge anyway.

"Mark would tell you anything. He looks up to you a great deal."

Releasing one hand, he tilted her chin up with his fingers. "Christiana, say you'll go with me now. I'll make it up to you. I promise."

"If I go, it's against my better judgment."

"Throw caution aside for once. Grasp at life with both hands!"

He was rewarded by a tiny grin that indicated she thought he was being silly now. "You do enough of that for both of us I think."

"Nonsense. Everyone should live life to the fullest." He rubbed his thumb along her cheek. "Say yes."

"Oh, I don't know…."

"Come on, Christiana. You can't always worry about our finances. Let me worry about them."

"I would but _you_ don't worry."

"Because I've no reason to," he returned. "Please." Bending his head, he placed a kiss at the corner of her mouth on one side and then the other. "It won't cost us much, I promise you." He repeated the two kisses, a calculated move designed to fluster her, which it did well. He'd found that a careful use of kisses such as this could raise her mood quickly. And his, if he thought about it. "You'll enjoy yourself, you know you will."

A husky laugh left her. "Very well. We'll go this time, but you have to promise me we'll pay attention to finances."

Leaning close once more, he changed direction at the last second, planting the kiss full on her lips. After a few seconds, she responded, her freed hand raising to his chest, lips parting beneath his. When he drew back, she was flushed and he winked at her. "I knew you'd see it my way."

Releasing her, he left the room to help Wat finish packing the wagon.

* * *

How did he do it? Christiana picked up her sewing after he'd gone and shook her head. One brief kiss from him and she was falling over herself to do what he asked. He knew it, too, and used it to his advantage every time. It would be maddening if it wasn't, at the same time, so very charming.

Leaning back against the wall, she sighed. She'd gotten her way for one day at least. That was something. Her glance strayed to her trunk. If they were leaving tomorrow, she might as well pack and be ready. Knowing him and his eagerness to be at tournament, they'd be setting out before dawn.

Flinging the embroidery aside, Christiana got to her feet and began sorting out what she wished to take with her. Other embroidery projects to be sure. Perhaps the scarf she was nearly finished with. It was a delicate thing with geometric shapes, flowers, and Will's crest all twined together in a design of her own making. The idea was to have it ready to be a favor tied to his arm and tucked beneath his armor. He'd seen her working on it, though likely didn't realize her plan for it. She'd make sure it was far more secure than Jocelyn's favor had been that one day. It wouldn't be lost and no other knight would take it away.

She packed most of her clothes, only leaving the drabbest, most worn garments set aside. Tournament was for showing off and while her clothes weren't grand like Jocelyn's had been, she'd kept them in good repair. Jocelyn had insisted Christiana's clothes be of decent quality to begin with. Soon, she was done with her own trunk and went to Will's. It was important that they keep a certain appearance and while he'd agreed, she could tell he didn't really care what he wore underneath it all. He was willing to let her dress him how she thought was appropriate.

Carefully, she sorted clothes. Shirts, coats. He didn't have many. Her hands lingered on that garment Roland had made -- from the tent fabric she'd realized later. He'd done excellent work, but perhaps that one article should remain at home for now. Too many memories. If they'd decent income from winnings, she'd ask for a little to make him some new coats. Maybe something she could add some embroidery to. She thought he'd like that.

It seemed she'd just started when Wat and George came to collect the trunks. They were surprised she was done, groaning good naturedly together about aching backs before lifting the first trunk. Upon first glance, Wat and George were nothing alike. However, as weeks had passed, Christiana had noticed striking similarities between them. They were both spoiling for a fight half the time, with eager tempers that snapped to attention quickly. They enjoyed food and both held a superior attitude in the areas they thought they knew best.

Christiana adored them both. She thought her life was turning out rather well, save one tiny detail: Jocelyn. They had not quite left her behind. Still, Christiana had hopes that the future would bring her Will's attention in full. His kisses came with more frequency these days and his embraces were longer.

She had hope.

* * *

Since the kiss in the hallway outside his mother's room, Adhemar had found Jocelyn to be almost distressed in mood. She would watch him in the hall as though wanting to speak to him, yet when he initiated conversation, she would say as little as possible. He sensed something rising between them and wasn't sure if it was good or bad. He'd take either at this point. Something had to give and soon.

He went to bed with plans of packing for tournament. After all, it was only days now and if they timed it right, they could arrive the day before and not have to withstand much early scrutiny. By the time any knew of their arrival, they'd have other things to talk about. It would also give him an opportunity to sneak up on Thatcher early the starting morning and perhaps have an unguarded conversation regarding Jocelyn. He'd found mornings were an excellent time to catch others unaware. With luck, Thatcher would be confused and would reveal plenty before wondering on Adhemar's motives.

Jocelyn was actually asleep when he slid beneath the covers, so he took the opportunity to throw an arm about her and drag her close. For once, Adhemar slipped into sleep quickly.

He had wonderful dreams of Jocelyn warm and willing, her mouth eagerly meeting his, her body pliant beneath his hands. The fog of sleep began to lift, the perfume she wore in his nostrils. Her hands slid along his back, sudden jabs of pain pushing the last vestiges of sleep from him.

Adhemar wasn't dreaming. Jocelyn was everything he'd been wanting right then. He didn't think on her change of heart until they were still once more and her screech nearly deafened him. Her hands moved, grasping his arms, shoving, voice panicked as she demanded he get off of her.

* * *

Her dreams had been an escape for long weeks now. Jocelyn went to her slumbers nightly eager to leave her life and return to Will's arms. Sometimes her dreams accommodated her -- like now. She was in bed with Will, a very welcome return to her past. Jocelyn fell into the dream. It felt so very real to her, his hands on her body, mouth trailing kisses…. She didn't question the tactile sensations, she merely enjoyed.

Unfortunately, clarity snapped into place, revealing not Will, but Adhemar. She gasped, horrified, that she'd apparently encouraged him while asleep. "Adhemar," she hissed, shoving at his heavy weight above her. "Get off of me!"

"Stop hitting me," he mumbled and rolled away with a sigh.

"How could you!" Jocelyn shoved her shift back down her legs.

His eyes started to close again, then snapped open. "How could I?" Incredulity colored those three words, as though he couldn't imagine why she said them.

"You assault me while I sleep." Tossing the covers off, she left the bed, reaching for her robe, intent on putting distance between them.

Adhemar raised up onto his elbows and stared at her. His eyes narrowed and a small smile played at his lips. "You're my wife. I've rights."

"I said I wouldn't fight you, yet you wait until I'm _unconscious_. Could you be any sleazier? Brute," she spat, ignoring that she'd been encouraging him. If she could ignore it, it couldn't be true, right?

He snorted. "Yes, you said you wouldn't fight, but neither were you the least bit agreeable. A corpse would be a better bed companion than you most nights."

"Well, I'm sure that's not a first for you."

"I don't desecrate the dead," he roared, sitting the rest of the way. "At least allow that there are some sins I do draw the line at."

"I trusted you --" His snort was loud and Jocelyn harrumphed, before starting over. "I trusted you not to attack me while I slept, but what did you do? You grope me like one of your whores while I sleep!" Crossing her arms, she watched him toss off the covers and turn his back to her. She gulped. Her nails had left marks on his back, one of which was trickling blood. He was going to be more insufferable than usual wasn't he?

"I've a wife. I'm not supposed to need whores." Adhemar looked over his shoulder at her. "Or hadn't that occurred to you?"

"I won't put up with this. I won't be pawed in the middle of the night."

"You're my wife, Jocelyn, or have you forgotten that? A wife attends her husbands needs and I've seen little of that in any area thus far. You've scarcely behaved as a wife at all. You ignore me, refuse to give counsel --"

"When have you asked for it?"

His glower made the room feel even darker than it had before. "What wifely duties can you claim to employ, for I've seen none."

"You disparage me."

"You lack."

"As do you."

"How," he demanded. "How do I lack as a husband?"

"If you cannot see your faults there, would you believe me if I pointed them out?" Her heart was beating very fast in her chest and Jocelyn noticed that everything about her right then seemed a bit more…solid and colorful. That trickle of blood on his back was bright against his flesh. Indeed, Jocelyn had never seen blood so red. She wanted to reach out and wipe away that evidence of her transgression.

But he's your husband, a tiny voice inside her mind whispered. It wasn't wrong. You've every right to enjoy his embraces as he does yours.

"Oh Jocelyn, you only say that because you can't think of any."

Well, yes, but she wasn't about to let him know that. Besides, given time she was sure she could think up dozens of ways he'd been lacking. "And now you imply I lie."

"No." He stood, reaching for his clothes. "I say it outright: you lie. You lie to me and to yourself."

"I do not."

Coming to her, he hooked a finger on the neckline of her shift, dragging it down. "You're flushed."

"I'm angry." She slapped his hand away and tugged the fabric back up, uncomfortably aware that Will had noted the same their first night together. She'd flushed and remained so a long while from pleasure.

Adhemar wasn't buying it, standing a little straighter, a smirk tugging his lips. "It's a very telling thing in most women, that flush."

"You're insufferable."

"And you were _pleased_. There's no shame in admitting your husband performed his duties satisfactorily -- even if you do claim to have been sleeping." He shrugged on his shirt.

"You're wrong." Her voice could not have been more unsteady.

"And you're delusional, so we're even."

"I'll never find pleasure in your company in any way, shape, or form. You're mad to think otherwise."

"We'll see." Adhemar went to their door and opened it.

Germaine was waiting, peering in at first Adhemar, then Jocelyn.

"Mad," she reiterated.

Adhemar reached for his coat, but Germaine stopped him.

"My lord, your shirt is bloody on the back."

Removing the shirt, Adhemar studied it, then cocked a brow at her. "Is the scratch deep, Germaine?"

The man stretched a hand out to Adhemar's back and Jocelyn's cheeks burned. It was obvious the scratches were from her nails. The servants would have plenty of gossip today. "It should be attended to."

Adhemar made no further comment, only that smug stare that indicated he knew damn well Jocelyn was lying. He held out the shirt and Jocelyn conceded the victory in stony silence, fetching a clean shirt and handing it to him. She drew the line at taking the soiled one. It fell to the ground when he released it, those small spots of blood giant to her eyes.

Jocelyn spent much of the day in their chamber, musing over what had occurred.


	10. Chapter 10

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 10  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

* * *

Jocelyn had been in a helluva mood that entire day, Adhemar reflected as he attempted to decide what clothes to pack for tournament. She'd been following him about the manor since she'd left their chamber mid-morning, determined to get at the truth about Anne, Robert, and himself.

"Did he or did he not steal Anne on your wedding day?"

For some reason she'd a burning desire to know what had happened and wasn't giving him any peace on the matter. She'd apparently decided it was a juicy bit of gossip she had to chew on, despite it being very old news. And here he'd not thought her the sort of woman to engage in gossip. She'd always seemed rather aloof and disdaining on such chitchat. Why she couldn't get this excited about anything else in her life was beyond him. "Don't romanticize it in your head. Anne and I were promised as children. We saw each other often and of course an attachment developed." He pointed to one coat. "Not that one. The style is wrong. It needs to be reworked. Take it now and hurry back," he told the servant actually packing for him in an attempt to gain a few moments of relative privacy with Jocelyn. When the young man had gone, he turned back to her. "What?"

"She says you loved each other." The look in her eyes intimated that she'd ferret out the truth sooner or later and he should just tell her sooner rather than later.

Adhemar rolled his eyes. "Anne must always be right."

"She lied?"

He sighed. Why wouldn't she leave this alone? He couldn't say Anne had lied, for she hadn't exactly. He'd once admitted passionate love for her and she for him. Had that love been real though? At the time…. "She knew her own heart."

"But not yours." Jocelyn's glance slid down to where his heart was in his chest, her expression in doubt as to whether he even had one.

"Does any person know another's heart? Truly?" This counter produced a passionate reply from her that was as hearty as a bloodthirsty battle cry.

"Yes!"

"You only think you know." Attempting to change the subject, Adhemar gestured to her trunk. "Are you packed yet? We leave for tournament in the morning."

"I can't go," she spat in a petulant tone, crossing her arms and sitting heavily upon their bed.

"You're going."

"I refuse."

"You can't refuse. You're going, end of subject."

"As my lord and master commands," she snapped.

His lips twitched. It was nice to see the spirit coming back into her. Adhemar had grown weary of that insipid Jocelyn who'd been trailing about his home for weeks. "I do command it. You're going. You'll have a marvelous time I'm sure, lording your status over those women you despised, spending your days trying to shop me out of all of my coins. I daresay you've possibly the skills in that area to do a large dent in our coffers."

Her glare was murderous and her lips twisted in a sour grimace. "I hate you."

"So you remind me constantly, but are you sure it's hate you're feeling?"

Her eyes narrowed further, nearly closing completely, and then her expression smoothed out. "I'll go, but only from a desire to visit with friends in the stands, not because you command it."

Yes, she had to make that clear. How quickly she turned the order to suit herself! It was remarkable how she could always do that. "Don't let those women see you unhappy, wife."

"Another order?" One brow raised, scorn implied.

Adhemar shrugged. "Advice -- from a man who's seen how women treat each other when an expected match goes awry. You'd do well to portray anything other than displeasure, but…you'll do as you please regardless of what I say."

"Are Robert and Anne going?"

"Uncle has business to attend but may watch some matches. Anne will remain here with mother."

Jocelyn was silent a moment and just when he thought she'd been successfully diverted from her sole purpose of the day….

"So, did he or did he not? I will have an answer, Adhemar."

* * *

When funds were elusive, one did his best to find lucrative avenues in which to regain them. Did it truly matter if they were…legal? Or even morally right? Survival must be considered and a man did what he had to do to survive in this harsh world. It had not always been this way. Once, he'd been wealthy in his own right. Soon, he would be again.

With his servant, he watched the travelers on the road below, taking note of the one he was most interested in. His man had done well in gathering information and he was quite pleased thus far.

"Keep watching. I want to know everything, including any others who might interfere."

"Yes, my lord." Gavin headed down the hill to join the travelers and his master turned to take another route.

* * *

They were a merry bunch setting up camp. Christiana had to admit she was excited by the time they'd arrived. She saw many of their recent acquaintances had arrived early as well, lending more merriment to their camp. She'd not be nearly as bored as she'd at first thought. In no time at all their tent was raised and the bed put together, after which she set herself to creating a homely atmosphere inside.

Kate had gone to set up her business with the other blacksmiths, Wat and Adam to care for the horses and Will and Mark to pre-register. Mark had been all excited about that for some reason. Christiana supposed it had something to do with performing the actual duties he'd been hired for.

Christiana was alone. She didn't mind it, taking a moment to enjoy the solitude. They'd set up camp a little ways outside the growing circle of tents, on a good patch of fragrant grass. Spring had definitely arrived, erasing the barren grayness of winter and lending a fresh scent to the air. Taking a deep breath, she smiled. She smelled grass, earth, and fancied that she could even smell the sunshine. It was lovely.

Tonight they'd meet new friends for food and entertainment. Henry of Burgundy had invited them to join him. He'd a talented minstrel traveling with him, he'd claimed, and they must hear him. They weren't to be the only guests however. It was to be a large group that night.

Christiana was looking forward to it. Maybe they'd even have a few dances and she could show off her lightness of foot to Will. In all these long weeks, they'd not had a proper dance together. It was time to change that.

* * *

Robert of Anjou divided up the coins in his purse. "These on Sir William," he indicated the larger pile. "The smaller bit on Count Adhemar."

From behind him came a gasp and he looked over his shoulder. Germaine was there, holding a heavy purse in his hands. It seemed Adhemar couldn't be bothered placing his own bets these days. Robert plucked the purse from him.

"The same ratio on these."

Germaine started, the panic speeding across his face nearly comical to behold. "Lord Robert, I don't think --"

"And that's the problem, Germaine. He's taught you not to think. _Try_. Sir William is the reigning champion at the joust. He's young, younger than Adhemar, and very fit. Adhemar is older and never quite recovered from last season -- though to convince him of that would be a Herculean task. Granted, there are others who want to win as much as those two, but out of all, who do you see fighting for his very survival in our world?"

Germaine's mouth closed and he nodded in comprehension. "Sir William. He's a new wife and a household to build." Reaching around, he took half the coins from Adhemar's purse that were counted out for Adhemar's pile and placed them in Sir William's. "All of these on Sir William," he told the man waiting.

Robert laughed and clapped a hand to his back. "Good man. Just don't tell Adhemar how you won him a load of coins."

"I don't plan to. I do value my life, my lord."

Bet placed, Robert took a stroll through the streets, pausing to watch the blacksmiths working. As he walked, he took in the bits of conversation he heard about him. They were little snippets and sometimes, Robert slowed enough to take in more than a few words. Like the conversation on Henry of Burgundy. The man was now relying on his widowed sister for funds, having lost all of his yet again to some ridiculous venture.

Robert had never met Henry, but had heard plenty about him over the years. He was a wastrel, rogue, thief and every manner of devilish thing. Well, according to rumor. They'd not quite run in the same circles, nor had Henry ventured to tournament often. His last arrival, if Robert remembered correctly, had been the first year Adhemar took the title, and even then he'd not stayed until the end of those final games, leaving before the win.

He was not going to end up as Henry did. Gambling was not the only way Robert had figured out to gain funds.

* * *

Kate was pleased to discover Gavin waiting at her work tent, a grin splitting his features when he noticed her approaching.

"Good morning, Kate. I'd so hoped you'd be here."

"I told you we would be," she said, studying him. He'd grown a bit gaunt since she'd last seen him, as though the winter had been harder than anticipated. "Tournament is our livelihood."

"I see that." He crossed his arms and followed her into her tent. "Your lord is in good spirits. I saw him out already this fine morning, taking in the market."

"Buying?" She paused. Christiana would have a fit if he'd bought anything frivolous so soon, though she didn't think he would. He was probably just working off nervous energy until tournament started.

"Looking it appeared. His lady was quite interested in a bolt of cloth when I last saw them."

Unsurprising. Christiana had been hoping to visit the cloth merchants and perhaps pick out some fabric at this tournament. She'd tried to get Kate interested, but Kate really had no interest in the subject. Clothes were clothes, to be put on for decency and protection from the elements. She'd all she needed at present. Christiana had been horrified by the attitude, unable to believe that Kate didn't care what she wore.

Despite Kate's words to Will on how Christiana was just like them under it all, she really wasn't. She'd left her family at a young enough age that the treatment she'd received from Jocelyn's family was all she knew. Hence her interest in clothes. Jocelyn had been nothing if not extremely stylish. It made sense that Christiana would have picked up her lady's interest and shared it. Considering how close the two had been, she'd genuinely enjoyed that interest.

"Will you have time for a break later, do you think? I could bring some food in a few hours and we could find a shady tree."

She was tempted even though she'd already promised the next meal with Wat, Mark, and Adam. "I've got plans." A quick glance outside the tent showed business picking up already for the other smiths. Hopefully hers would as well. She spied Wat's bright hair in the crowd.

Gavin chuckled. "I should have known a beautiful woman such as yourself would already have an assignation planned."

"An assi-what?" He tossed about fancy words about as much as Geoff had.

"Assignation," he repeated, head turning and thumb jerking to Wat, who'd come close enough Kate could see him beginning to frown. "A lover's meeting."

"You mean Wat?" Kate tilted her head, staring up at Gavin, not quite comprehending where he kept getting such ideas. While Wat had declared his love for her, she'd tried to keep things only friendly.

"He _is_ yours, as I recall from a previous conversation."

The playful gleam in his eyes took much of the irritation from her. "It's not just him I'm eating with, Gavin. It's the rest of Sir Will's men as well."

Wat was almost upon them, trying to force his way through the crowd. They didn't oblige him by parting easily, instead he appeared to be almost having to fight to get by.

"Then I mourn that I'm not numbered among them this day. I've errands to run, Kate, but I'll be back and forth all this week. Perhaps we can eat together another day."

He'd gone by the time Wat reached the tent.

Wat sent a glower that direction that could have curdled milk. "I'd thought we'd got rid of that Gavin."

"Why, are you jealous," she teased, reaching for her tools.

Wrapping an arm about the tent pole, he leaned against it. "When he's around you don't talk to me."

"When Gavin's around _you_ don't talk. All you do is glower and grunt. If you won't talk, he will and I'm glad for the conversation."

"He's up to no good."

A glance showed him unusually troubled, not in his usual sort of humor. Something about Gavin really bothered him and Kate paused. Wat could sometimes be very perceptive. She tilted her head a little in curiosity. "Do you know something about him I don't?"

"No, except that men know when other men are up to no good. He watches you, Kate. You think he's just being friendly, but he's always watching."

"You think he has evil designs upon me?" The words were meant to be light, yet came out with a slight tremor. "What sort?"

"I don't know," he admitted, "but I'd ask you not to go off with him alone. Please."

After a moment, Kate nodded. If Wat was this bothered then maybe there was something to his dislike of Gavin.

* * *

The day of the tournament open was a fine one, with the sun bright in a cloudless, azure sky. Birds chirped and when Christiana emerged from their tent, she could see the crowd already growing near the stands. Will, Wat, Mark, and Kate had left already, leaving Adam to see to Christiana's wants. She sent him ahead to help Wat and began the walk to the arena, nodding at familiar faces and noting market stalls she'd like to take a closer look at later. A few more had sprung up overnight.

Christiana's steps faltered as she spotted Count Adhemar blocking her path. He wasn't supposed to be there! If he was present, did that mean Jocelyn was as well? Her stomach lurched at the thought of seeing her when Christiana was the one reaping the benefits of Will's affection. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to continue walking, her head held high. After all, she was very much in the public eye right now. She couldn't run. It'd be too obvious he was who she ran from. Besides, Will had a match in awhile and if she wasn't in the stands early, they'd fill up and she wouldn't get a decent seat. She'd promised him she'd be there.

"Good morning, Christiana," Adhemar purred, not moving from the path.

She stopped before him, gave a small tip of her head. It wouldn't be polite to ignore him and go around him, would it? Not when he'd greeted her by name. A too familiar greeting, but a greeting just the same. "Count Adhemar. May I pass?"

"In a moment." His glance swept the street, no doubt seeing all of those eyes turned their way.

"The weather is fine for matches, is it not?"

He blinked. "It is, but I didn't wait for you to discuss the weather."

He'd waited for her? Was that a good or bad thing? With him, one could never tell until after he'd spoken in full. "Then why?"

Adhemar appeared to be struggling inside himself, frowning, shrugging, half smiling, then frowning once more. "She doesn't know," he said.

"Excuse me?" Christiana thought she saw regret dancing in his eyes, which was quite impossible. Count Adhemar never regretted anything. She must be seeing it wrong.

"Jocelyn." He waved a hand towards the stands. "She doesn't know you've wed Sir William."

"Why not?"

"I didn't tell her. Don't you know I've kept her quite locked up and isolated." At her cautious glance, he let loose a snort of what sounded like laughter. "You'll all believe anything about me. I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted. No, I didn't tell her because I don't know how to do so without shattering her completely, as I'm certain it will."

Shattering? "What's happened?"

He avoided her gaze. "Will you tell her?"

"You ask me to tell Jocelyn I married Will?"

"Yes. She's spent much time withdrawn into herself, paying little attention to anything about her until recently. Recently she's been more herself, but I fear…." He broke off and she wondered on the use of that word. Fear. Did he really fear for Jocelyn? "Tell her however you feel best."

Having left that weight for her, he strode off without waiting for a reply. However in the world was she to do this?

* * *

Cautiously, Will approached the designated meeting place. Mark had exclaimed him daft for agreeing to it, citing one hundred and one reasons to decline the invitation all the way here. He found Adhemar waiting, his arms crossed and features set in a slight frown.

There was no greeting, Adhemar heading straight into conversation, gesturing towards Mark, who waited several paces away. "Your men love you. Why?"

Will blinked. Surely this wasn't the reason Adhemar wanted to meet? Discussing why Will's men didn't attempt to mutiny his leadership of them and Adhemar's had -- sometimes very publicly -- would take little reasoning out. Even Adhemar could figure it out with no help. "I don't beat them," he replied slowly, as though speaking to a child.

"I don't beat mine." He shrugged. "Only those who deserve it."

Will shook his head. "You see, that, _that_, is but one difference between us, Adhemar. I can't behave like that."

Adhemar rolled his eyes. "Give you a decade and the experiences I've had in such and you could be me. We're more alike than you think."

Crossing his own arms, Will once more wondered why he'd agreed to this meeting. The message had been bland, a simple worded wish that they meet and agree to fair terms on the field with no ill will remaining from the previous year. "What do you want from me?"

A ripple of distaste crossed his face. "I want to know how best to…woo…Jocelyn."

"Woo her? She's your wife by your own doing --"

"Her father's doing, William. I would have let her go after London. He was the one moved forward."

"So you pressed on because he did?" Why did that not surprise him? Of course Adhemar would take whatever he thought should be his.

"I saw that no matter what happened, he desired men more than her happiness. She was his treasured daughter but only to a point. He wouldn't have accepted you unless you had what he needed. I won't be miserable my entire life because of you. Tell me how to make her happy and we can quit each others company."

It was tempting, but he knew he'd never really be free of Adhemar as long as they both traveled the tournament circuit. They'd compete against each other again and again until one of them died or quit. "You don't mistreat her? I seem to remember a remark you made once about saddles and mantels."

"Do you believe every taunt directed your way to be truth? It got a reaction out of you."

"You're contemptible, Adhemar."

"So everyone tells me these days."

"I should let you remain miserable."

A smirk tugged his lips. "Ahh, but you won't let her remain so, not if you can fix it. You do still love her at least a little."

Will sighed. Adhemar was right, damn him! Will couldn't bear to know Jocelyn remained unhappy. "I'll always love her in some way." While it pained him to aid Adhemar, he wanted to help Jocelyn. Slowly, he nodded. "All right. I'll help you."


	11. Chapter 11

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 11  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

* * *

With a glance over his shoulder at Mark, Will forged ahead. "Start small. Speak to her and when she talks, listen. Ask her opinion, even if you don't care to hear it."

"I do that already. She ignored me."

"But are you really listening to her?" Placing his hands on his hips, Will shook his head. "I can't believe I'm about to say this. It's not enough that she's your wife. She has to be immortal." Adhemar was staring at him as though he was insane and Will decided he must be at this point. He'd have to be to help Adhemar woo Jocelyn didn't he?

"I should have her portrait painted," Adhemar ventured, looking rather confused.

"Not exactly, though Jocelyn might enjoy that eventually. That's not quite what I mean."

"Just what do you mean?"

It was bizarre to have Adhemar's rapt attention upon him without malice in his eyes and condescension in his attitude. "She must be your Aphrodite, your Venus, that unattainable goddess you can't believe is before you in human form. Your ears strain to catch the slightest sound she makes. Your eyes can't help but be drawn to her ravishing beauty and you feel blessed to do so. You long," he warmed to the descriptions, "for even the brush of her clothes against you, certain that to have her naked hand upon yours is to die from ecstasy." Will paused, brows raised.

There was quiet a long moment and then Adhemar snorted, letting loose a short bark of laughter. "Damn, you're good at that."

"It takes practice. I wasn't very good in the beginning."

Adhemar shook his head. "I can't speak like that. She'd know in an instant that the words weren't mine."

"So say such things when alone until they _are_ natural."

"And have my servants and family think I'm going daft?"

Will thought a moment. That wasn't such a bad idea. "Yes. Or rather, let Jocelyn hear you practice as though by accident. Then she'll know you're trying to please her. She'll see you as human."

"Human?" Adhemar began to pace. "You sound like my Uncle."

"Is there anyone in your household who can compose such speech for you?"

"Germaine is improving. He looks to your former herald as his ideal."

"But he's not good enough. It must be someone who's a natural, like Geoff is."

Adhemar looked up in thought, then closed his eyes and shuddered, resignation rippling his features. "There is…one," he said slowly. "My Uncle. He adores silly speech. He and his wife are positively nauseating in it."

Simple. "Have him help you then."

"I will not."

"Do it."

"No. Impossible. I refuse."

"Adhemar. For Jocelyn."

"Ask me to give her the sun, William, and I would attempt it, but do not ask me to ask a favor of my Uncle."

"Well why not? He's there. He's a resource you can --"

"Because I don't want him stealing another bride from me!"

Will's mouth dropped open. _Another _bride? When on earth had that happened? He couldn't recall hearing at any time in recent years that Adhemar was to marry.

"Uncle has a lamentable habit of charming women, much like you do. Women adore him before he even opens his mouth and looses his glib tongue upon them."

"He stole a bride from you?"

"Yes. Don't you recall the…." Adhemar drew in a sharp breath. "The scandal. You wouldn't, would you," he mused to himself. "We weren't in the same sphere then."

Will decided it best to take that as a compliment. Adhemar had apparently forgotten Will wouldn't know noble gossip from years earlier. He was about to pursue the subject, when Mark's voice rang out.

"My lord! Sir William! Your match has been moved up. We must go now."

"I have to go," Will told him. "I won't forfeit a match just to give you advice on Jocelyn."

Adhemar waved him away with one hand, his attention on the ground, a though something there was of great interest.

Will didn't stay, striding away, somewhat surprised when Adhemar didn't demand he return until he was told to go. Mark was in a tizzy, muttering under his breath in a manner suggesting that he was extremely nervous. Will caught snips of his voice, referencing London and Prince Edward. He almost couldn't wait to hear what his introduction would be.

* * *

Tournament was much changed in the months that had passed and none for the better. Jocelyn perused the stands, searching for friendly faces and found none there, only vicious, harping gossips. They hated her, that much was apparent. While Adhemar may have lost that final joust, he had still been quite the prize, his familial connections and wealth coveted by many. That she could snag him in the end was a source of frustration to many. Those same women she'd snubbed the previous season took great delight in snubbing her back in this one.

Adhemar had been right and it galled her to admit it. So far, in only a short while, she'd been the victim of snide hit-and-runs by jealous women, hurtful teasing about foolish love lost and naïve actions. She'd been tempted to lash out as well, yet Adhemar's advice had stuck in her mind. Instead, she'd plastered what had to be an infuriating little smile to her lips and refrained from comment, falling back on her aloof manner from the start of the previous season. When she refused to respond as they wanted, they called her a 'bitch' under their breath and moved on.

She watched Adhemar's match, the very first of the day. His opponent was carried away unconscious. Despite his defeat in London, his supporters were as rabid as ever.

Smoothing her dress, Jocelyn stared at the field, watching, but not seeing, two more matches. Perhaps leaving the tent had been a bad idea. Adhemar hadn't ordered her to attend, only insisting she go to the evening banquet with him. He didn't much care what she did the rest of the day as long as she presented the proper show of wifeliness in public. She could leave now and he wouldn't care.

She sighed. Maybe she would leave and rejoin Bess. They could go to the market and shop, or visit the cathedral. Something, anything, to lift this malaise setting over her, for she'd found nothing at the arena thus far to soothe her soul, only a sense of dissatisfaction in all she saw and heard. At least Bess was kind.

Turning her head in order to check the path to the exit, Jocelyn paused, glimpsing a face and form of a dear one coming towards her. The sun seemed to shine a bit brighter, the day lightening.

Christiana.

Smiling, Jocelyn stood. Joy made her grin wide and she almost laughed in delight and relief. Here, at last, was an ally to wile the day away with!

Christiana still moved with a lithe grace, yet there was something different about her, a quiet authority in her carriage. With a jolt, it hit Jocelyn that Christiana no longer moved like a servant, her gaze raised as a lady's would be.

What's this, she thought, pleased by the change and by the thought that her former maid was obviously content. She couldn't wait to catch up.

* * *

Kate couldn't believe what she was seeing. No, no, no! "Wat. Wat. _Wat_!" She smacked his arm in a repeated effort to gain his attention.

Shaking her hand from his arm, he turned impatient eyes to her. "What, Kate? Why're you hitting me? I have to get the horse ready."

"Look!" She flung out her arm, fingers pointing to the stands.

"What am I supposed to be…" His gulp was audible. "Oh hell and damnation!"

Christiana had finally reached the stands and was making her way towards Jocelyn.

Kate made herself breathe slow and even, trying to reign in her racing heart. Jocelyn and Adhemar weren't supposed to be here. Everyone had said so. He hadn't been there the night before. He was supposed to be at his home, yet somehow, Kate wasn't truly surprised. It was just like that man to decide to join in after all.

Wonderful, she thought with a sour grimace. All these weeks of working to get Will to see Christiana as his wife and seeing Jocelyn will end that in a second.

"What's she doing here?"

"Obviously Adhemar is competing."

"Obviously," he replied, sarcasm dripping from the word. Wat began gesturing, arms swinging. "But what's _she_ doing here?" He added kicking the dirt to his gestures. "All these fonging weeks…" Dust billowed up. "…up in smoke…"

She took several steps back from him, tuning out his tirade -- he voiced her own sentiments rather well -- and tried to think on how to salvage the situation. She couldn't very well go up there and ask Jocelyn to leave, could she? Or could she….

"What's going on?"

Kate mentally employed several of Wat's favorite curses and turned. Will was there, half smiling, half frowning at Wat, who'd paused in the act of jumping up and down. "Nothing."

There was the barest bit of suspicion on his features. "Wat? Tell me. What's going on?"

Wat straightened with a care that was ludicrous. "Um…nothing. Just…warming up for later. You know…in case…you lose…?"

"Right." Will drew the word out over several seconds, grinning, his glance sweeping Wat, then turning to the stands. His amused grin faded, gaze thoughtful. "I see." Those words were clipped, curt. Swiveling on his heel, he put his back to the stands and proffered his left arm. "Kate, would you secure Christiana's token? I can't have my wife's favor fluttering away during the match. Wat, re-check my saddle."

"Will?" Kate complied, making sure the delicate fabric was tied and tucked securely. Christiana had been working on the embroidery for weeks.

He sighed, voice low. "I already knew. They arrived late last night and Adhemar sent a message early this morning."

"Arrogant wretch," she bit out.

"His herald said he wished for fair matches and that springing Jocelyn on me would not be fair. He wishes no distractions when we meet on the field, only skill to skill."

Kate peered up at him. His expression was stony and she had the feeling there was far more to it that what he'd said. Adhemar was up to something. "Now he wants fair? After everything he did before he wants fairness?" She let loose an incredulous laugh.

"I don't care what he wants. Jocelyn is in the past. Christiana is my wife now and I'll honor her and her alone. I made that vow, Kate. I made it before God and witnesses. I put myself where I am by my own choices and I'm a big boy. If there are consequences, I'll take them."

"You always do," she told him, then nodded towards the field. "They'll be calling you soon."

"Let's finish getting ready."

She couldn't help but wonder what fallout, if any, there'd be from Will's decisions.

* * *

Jocelyn's joy at seeing her couldn't have been more blindingly obvious. Everything about her at that moment relayed her happiness. Christiana hated to destroy it. That Adhemar would shackle her with that task that he himself should have performed months ago annoyed her.

"You're here!"

She was embraced as a friend would do, Jocelyn gripping her arms and rubbing her hands up and down them a moment before motioning to the seat beside her. Christiana tried not to let her shock show. Jocelyn was far thinner than she should be, a shadow of her former self. There was dark shadows beneath her eyes and Christiana judged her clothes to be far too loose.

"So, tell me all that's happened these past months." Jocelyn's fingers touched her cheek. "I'd have happiness through your obvious good fortune. You look beautiful! You're married then? He's good to you?" She laughed. "Well, of course he must be. You're almost glowing with good health."

"I've married, yes, and he's a very good man. Honorable, kind." This was going to be one of the hardest things she'd ever done.

Jocelyn nodded, waiting for more. "And?"

"I'm happy." She prayed desperately for Divine guidance, but frustratingly, none was forthcoming.

"And I'm very pleased to hear it. I'd despaired of you when we parted. Tell me about your husband. Is he here with you? Does he compete even? Will I meet him? You must join us at banquet!" She glanced at the field, quickly turning back to Christiana. "It'll be nice to have you there. We'll be quite the merry party at our end of the table I think."

"Jocelyn…"

"Is he handsome? I bet he is, isn't he? Yes? And young? Tell me before I burst!"

She half turned away, looking at the field. They were still setting up for the next match. At the far end, she thought she saw Will preparing…. "He's both young and handsome. A better man than he I've not ever glimpsed. He's not perfect, of course, but none of us are. We've a house in the country, nothing big, you understand, but to us, it's a palace. I run my own household. We'd a surprisingly comfortable winter. I had not dreamed to be so blessed as I've been."

Taking her hand, Jocelyn squeezed it. "Does this wonderful husband have a name?"

She should say it plain, with no hedging about. That would be best. Christiana looked at Jocelyn. "It's Sir Will."

That sunny, pleased smile faded, returned briefly as though she thought Christiana was joking, then finally disappeared completely. She blinked several times, bit her lip. "Of…of where?"

"Of Cheapside, Jocelyn. William, the Thatcher's son."

She snatched her hand away. "My…Will," she whispered in question.

"No," Christiana corrected firmly. "_My_ Will. _My_ husband."

Jocelyn blanched at the possessive tone, quickly turning away, her attention apparently on the field. She said nothing, indeed seemed to barely be breathing at all. "Yours," she managed minutes later.

Christiana could see the struggle on her face, that desperate attempt to keep from breaking down right there. After long minutes, Jocelyn managed to school her features into a cold, hard mask. "Jocelyn?"

"When?" It was a demand, not a request.

"About a week after you left with Count Adhemar."

"Do you claim to love him?"

On this point, she refused to lie, even for Jocelyn. Yes, she'd come to love William Thatcher. "I do."

"How long," she inquired, but didn't give any time for an answer before rushing on with words couched in fiery anger. "How long did you love him? From the start? When I was telling you everything, were you coveting what I had with him, plotting to get him for yourself? Did you aid my father in shackling me to Adhemar? Was that your prize, Christiana? Hmm? Did my father promise you Will?" She scoffed. "I mean, who are you to marry him anyway? You're a…a peasant! You're not a lady. You're not a noble. You're just a maid. You're a…" She made a choking cough, covering her mouth with a shaking hand and squeezing her eyes shut as tears spilled forth. "How could he!"

It was unclear which he Jocelyn referred to. Will? Her father? Adhemar? She didn't try to touch her, knowing Jocelyn would shove her away if she did. "You know exactly how I can marry him. I'm the daughter of a now successful middle class merchant and he is a former peasant himself of low title. That makes it possible. I _am_ his wife and that makes me a lady, if not in title, then in status. Did you expect him to never marry because he couldn't have you?"

"Yes!" Her hands dropped to her lap. "No. No, I…." Several times, she looked as though she was going to speak, yet didn't and then she bowed her head. "Tell me, Christiana, did…Adhemar know?"

"Yes."

Jocelyn went very still, sniffing once. "Did he know all this time?"

"I believe he did."

Her head turned. If her anger had been hot a moment earlier, it had now grown opposite, icy. Christiana had only seen Jocelyn this upset once before, at her brother. Her brother had regretted making her that way and still did. "And he left it to you to tell me?"

Christiana nodded. "He stopped me on my way here."

Jocelyn's lips pursed and she stood, stalking away and leaving Christiana to wonder if they parted as friend or foe.

* * *

The shock of the news Jocelyn had heard numbed her even as it infuriated. Her lips parted, horrible things tumbling forth. Of course, she knew Christiana had never done such a hateful thing, but she couldn't stop the words, couldn't bear to look at her. Her imagination went wild, replacing herself in those treasured memories of Will with Christiana. Christiana held the position she'd wanted. The truth of her…their…situation was never more evident than now.

Even if Adhemar were to die today, Jocelyn couldn't marry Will for he was already married. There were no second chances. She was Adhemar's wife as certainly as Christiana was Will's. There was no changing it no matter how hard she wished or prayed. It was all real and done. No going back. Will was fully lost to her.

Adhemar had known. Of course he would. He adored gossip. People from all over sent him letters filled with gossip. But if he'd know, surely he would have told her? Then again….

A decidedly red haze descended over her vision, her anger making her shake.

That horrible, scheming wretch! How dare he keep this from her!

Jocelyn hurried from the arena as fast as she could.

* * *

Thatcher wouldn't have known the gossip from years earlier. How on earth had he forgotten such a detail? To forget was to put the man on the same level as himself and they were hardly on the same level. Adhemar's thoughts turned inward as he slowly walked to his tent. He was still considering his lapse, when a feminine voice cried out, "Wretched bastard!" Seconds later, something hard hit his head and sent him reeling into the dirt.

Through a spinning head and eyes that could barely focus, he was able to make out Jocelyn before him, a piece of his armor in her hands.

She raised it again. "Arrogant, contemptible --"

"The wrath of my Aphrodite. Smite me goddess, for I am unworthy."

At least, that was what he thought he mumbled.

Her eyes widened and he saw her drop the armor onto the foot of his favorite page. "What did you say?"

He opened his mouth to reiterate and found unconsciousness swallowing him up.


	12. Chapter 12

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 12  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

* * *

Had her well-timed, well-placed blow successfully addled his brain? Her intention had been to hopefully kill him, though Jocelyn had known his men would only be unaware of her plan for minutes. One blow was all she'd time for. It was disappointing to not see any blood dripping from his brow. She had to settle for a large bump and perhaps an addled husband. There was a chance it could be an improvement.

Now, she sat on the bedside, watching the surgeon -- Carys -- once more look him over. Adhemar hadn't been himself since he'd woken only minutes after falling to the ground unconscious. He kept calling her all manner of endearments and that warm look in his eyes was unsettling. Definitely not the sort of improvement she'd been hoping for.

She reached for a piece of bread thickly smeared with honey and took a big bite, chewing slowly. It was delicious. Since Adhemar had woken, she'd strangely discovered her appetite, hunger growling loud in her belly. It made no sense, but she didn't question it too much, setting herself to satisfying that hunger. "What's wrong with him," she asked for what had to be the hundredth time.

Carys glanced her way. He was younger than the last surgeon who'd traveled with Adhemar. The previous one had declined to remain in their employ. Jocelyn supposed being employed by Adhemar in such a capacity could be more than a little dangerous, especially when Adhemar decided to return to battle. "Nothing I can treat at present. If a fever develops in the night, then I'd say bad humors got into his brain while he was unconscious."

Jocelyn nodded. "Is it possible that this complete change in behavior is from bad humors finally leaving him? Perhaps some were trapped inside?"

He appeared to consider the idea, nodding his head slowly. "Perhaps, my lady. He _did_ have a few hard hits during battle over the years."

"So it's possible? His behavior was the product of bad humors and this is the real Adhemar?" She jumped on the explanation with enthusiasm.

"I'm right here, you realize," Adhemar interjected in a cheery tone, snagging her hand and raising it to his lips. That bump she'd caused on his head was blossoming into lovely purple and black tones. He kissed her hand, tongue flicking out to swirl across her skin. The touch tickled.

It took two jerks to free her hand.

Carys shrugged. "I've never personally had a case that lasted very long, but I don't think it an impossibility. If bad humors did become trapped, I could certainly see his behavior being influenced for the worse."

"It'd explain much." Jocelyn reached for the large platter Germaine had brought in, selecting a chunk of cheese to nibble. His tempers, his overall attitude could be explained by that one little thing. If it was true. That was a big if, she decided.

"I'm perfectly well," Adhemar stated, smiling, one hand raising to touch the bump.

Jocelyn grabbed his hand from it, putting it firmly on the covers and holding it there. He took the opportunity to grasp her hand, thumb now sweeping across where his tongue had touched. It was disturbing, but if she didn't let him have this, he'd do something worse, like kiss her hand again. Or her arm. For an injured man he was being awfully amorous. She and Carys studied him.

"It was just a tap," Adhemar maintained. "I've survived far worse."

"Will he stay like this?"

Carys began packing up the bag he'd brought with him. "Hard to know. Watch him. Alert me of any changes."

"Oh, I will. Believe me, I will." She had to know if this was real.

* * *

Christiana was a treasure. Will knew it to be fully true. She was, as had once been pointed out to him, a resource he needed, especially now. He found her in their tent, measuring Wat with bits of string.

"If you don't stand still, your tunic won't fit right and I won't have anyone saying this lady doesn't provide decent clothing to her household."

"Roland never had to measure us," he protested.

"Roland knew both of you for years," Christiana countered. "He probably had your measurements memorized. I certainly did Jocelyn's, but I don't have yours. Now stand still."

Will crossed his arms and waited until she was finished before asking, "Christiana, what do you remember of a scandal years ago with Adhemar, his uncle, and a lady?"

Wat looked up. "Sounds like the start of a bad joke."

"It's not a joke. I heard earlier that his uncle stole a bride from him. Is it true?" If it was the truth, it could explain a lot about their rivalry last season.

Shrugging, she pinned the string to a piece of fabric, securing a needle in one end. Will had once seen Roland do the same. "There's always some sort of scandal in his family. Most people don't pay too much attention anymore unless it's something on the scale of London."

"He was younger then. Maybe a decade ago?"

Her nose scrunched, glance turning upward as she thought. "Well, I recall there was something that happened with a Lady Anne, but I don't remember if it was in conjunction with Adhemar."

"Could you find out?"

She smiled. "I could try."

"Please do."

Their meal was a pleasant one, spent on a sunny patch of land near a large tree. Adam had spread a blanket out for them. They all ate together, sharing the food spread out. Will eyed the other parties dotting the meadow, noting the definite lack of servants eating with the nobles. The servants waited until the nobles were finished. He couldn't do that, not like it was expected. These were his friends and he was determined to treat them as such.

When the food was gone, he lay back with his head on Christiana's lap, her fingers stroking his brow. He'd come to enjoy moments like this, seeking them out. Christiana seemed more than willing to enjoy the moments as well. Will closed his eyes. Maybe tonight after banquet he'd see if their usual goodnight kiss could lead to more. He was betting it could, that she'd let herself be seduced. After all, she was his wife, right? Seduction should be a normal part of their relationship.

"Well, well, isn't this a lovely scene?"

A shadow fell over him, blocking the warmth of the sun. Will opened his eyes. Henry of Burgundy loomed over them. Christiana's fingers stilled.

Will resigned himself to being polite. While they'd gone to Henry's camp on invitation, he'd never felt welcome there. Henry had been too focused on Wat, Adam, and Kate's absence from the event. Henry's initial invitation hadn't indicated the three were invited as well, so they'd remained back at the tent, telling tall tales and trying to best one another at it. Will, Kate and Mark had ended up being the only guests after all. He'd hated it. Silly posturing and false expressions of friendship had abounded the long hours until Christiana had whispered it was acceptable to leave.

It wasn't until the next morning that Will had learned that Henry of Burgundy's company was social suicide. Did he care about social suicide? In a way, yes. He was trying to be accepted as a noble, not be ostracized. Being known as one of Henry's friends wouldn't help their situation. Still, he was determined to be polite.

"Good afternoon, Henry. Are you enjoying the matches?"

Henry nodded, glance turning to Christiana and lingering. "Tournament has changed since I last attended. The rules are stricter in some areas, looser in others." He smiled an ingratiating grin, now looking at Kate.

Will noted an ugly light in his eyes and sat up, pretending to realize the time. "It has. Regretfully, we must pack up. I need to prepare for my next match."

Christiana entered in to that deception with enthusiasm, claiming a million things they needed to attend to and wasn't it a shame they couldn't chat longer?

Henry, though, wasn't as dense as he seemed, flushing, his eyes narrowing. "A definite shame. Kate the farris, I believe I'll have some business to bring your way very soon. Would that be to your liking?"

"As long as you pay first, my lord."

With a curt nod, he moved away.

Christiana snorted. "I don't like that man. He's boorish, sleazy, and rude."

"And he cheats his men," Mark added. "Any man who does that is scum."

"How do you know that?" Will helped Christiana to her feet. It might be prudent to learn what he could of the man.

"I met a man who works for him -- not one of the ones there that night we went to his camp. He admits he dislikes Henry, but can't leave. He's bound to the family, bound to do his bidding even when he's cheated."

"What's his name," Wat asked, standing. He, Kate, and Adam began to pack away the picnic things.

"I don't recall that he said it, but he was adamant that his lord wasn't to be trusted."

Will considered the advice of that unnamed servant the whole of the afternoon until something came along that destroyed his concentration on the subject.

Adhemar forfeited his afternoon matches. _Adhemar_. Neither he nor Jocelyn reappeared and Will wondered what had happened. It wasn't like Adhemar to forfeit. Maybe he'd been called to battle? Maybe Jocelyn had become ill? Or more likely she was simply upset. Christiana had explained what had happened between them, how Adhemar hadn't told Jocelyn of their marriage then asked her to do the telling.

Kate entered the tent, a curious expression on her face. "I've news." She sank to the ground, copying Wat's pose and accepting the drink he offered.

Christiana set down her embroidery. "And?"

Will's attention perked.

"Jocelyn hit Adhemar with a piece of his own armor. A surgeon has seen him and it's being said that he's not himself. Apparently, he spouted poetry to her right after she hit him and has been behaving that way ever since."

Hell. Will gritted his teeth and turned his face away. Adhemar hadn't wasted any time, had he? Glancing up, he saw Mark watching him, with raised brows. He shrugged, as if to claim he had no idea what Adhemar was up to.

"It's rumored they're going to leave first thing in the morning." She held out the cup for more, Wat obliging.

"That'd be good for us," Wat said. "Get him away and it's a guaranteed win. We could use that right now. Establish ourselves early."

"Do you think Jocelyn really hurt him," Christiana asked, taking Will's hand in hers.

"I hope so," was Wat's pleased murmur. He shared a long glance with Kate.

"Do you?" Will returned the question to Christiana. She'd known Jocelyn the longest, therefore she'd know if Jocelyn was really capable of it.

Christiana looked at all of them, then nodded. "If you'd seen how she handled her brother after he wronged her years ago, you'd not have to ask it. I'd not want Jocelyn for an enemy. At least not in the same household."

"What did she do?" Kate handed the cup back to Wat and raised her knees, wrapping her arms about them and resting her chin on her knees. She looked like she was anticipating a grand tale of the sort Geoff had often told in the evenings.

For a moment, Will thought Christiana might actually tell them, but then she shook her head. "I can't. I promised I'd never speak on it ever again. Suffice it to say, he's still sorry for what he did."

"Well, I say it doesn't matter what happened way back when." Mark stepped forward. "What matters is if it'll affect us. I don't know, so it doesn't matter. My lord and lady, you must prepare for banquet now. If you wait any longer you'll be late."

Christiana hated to be late. She'd made that abundantly clear the previous night when he'd dawdled chatting right outside the hall. Will stood, helped her to stand, and they began to dress for banquet. Sometime during the evening, he was going to slip off to visit Adhemar.

* * *

While it pained Adhemar to miss his matches, he was pained far more by his physical ills. Jocelyn had set quite a wound onto his brow. He found he could feel his own pulse throbbing right there. When he wasn't sick from that pounding sensation, he was just plain sick, his stomach rolling about in queasy flip-flops. Not to mention those disturbing moments of feeling lightheaded.

He spent the afternoon resting, pleased when the nausea disappeared because then Jocelyn's sudden interest in food wasn't torturous. She spent the day in the tent with him, watching him while she ate, refusing conversation. Germaine brought her pastries, bits of meat, cheese and other foods, always giving Adhemar a cautious glance, as though he wasn't sure what to make of his lord remaining in bed. It was a valid wondering, as Adhemar had always been up and about as soon as possible the other times he'd been injured. Occasionally, Germaine brought things to be signed, but for the most part, the tent was free of anyone other than himself and Jocelyn.

"Why did you hit me," he asked her, stretching a hand out to trail it along her arm. He liked the reaction he was getting from her. She looked at him as though she'd no idea how to handle him at all.

She shifted slightly away so that he couldn't reach her. "I was angry."

"Why were you angry?"

"Were? I'm still angry."

"So why then is my goddess still angry?" That word seemed to bother her, for she squirmed in her seat. He made a mental note to use it often. Adhemar rolled onto his side, propping his head up.

"You kept Will and Christiana's marriage from me."

"Ahh."

Jocelyn stared. "Ahh? Is that all you have to say?" She set her tray of food aside and crossed her arms.

"What would you have me say, my love? That I did it to hurt you? I can't say that, for it's not true. I knew the truth would hurt and tried to save you from that pain."

Her eyes widened.

Adhemar wondered what she might say to that. She opened her mouth twice, each time no word falling from her lips. Finally, she shook her head and stood.

"I'm going to the market for awhile. I'll send Germaine in."

He almost chuckled with amusement at how fast she fled his presence. Germaine entered the tent a few moments later, several rolls of parchment in his hands.

"Would my lord Adhemar be agreeable to hearing correspondence?" A glance showed Germaine obviously hoping the answer would be 'no'. He remained by the tent opening, body half turned to the outside.

"Of course." Pushing himself to sitting, he tried to ignore the pounding in his brow.

Bringing a camp stool close, Germaine perched and opened the first scroll. "You've a letter from your mother --"

"Not that one." He wasn't in the mood for his mother's dramatics.

"Oh." He fumbled for the next one. "You've a letter from Lady Anne --"

"Not that one." Nor was he in the mood for Anne's dramatics. That she'd written indicated something brewing between the two at home. Probably some power struggle over a daily menu or something. "Are there any letters from someone not at my home?"

Germaine's gaze dropped. "Not today, my lord. However, there is a message from Sir William."

"Have you read it?"

He shook his head. "No, my lord. It just arrived a few minutes ago. I'd not a chance to --"

He held out a hand. Now here was something interesting. "Give it here." Taking the paper, he opened it. Interesting indeed. Thatcher wanted to meet with him. He smiled. "My clothes, Germaine. I've decided to take a stroll by the stables."

Germaine paused, setting the scrolls on the top of the Jocelyn's trunk. "My lord…the surgeon wishes you to remain in bed until morning." The reminder was soft and held the slightest tone of fear to it. He swallowed hard, wincing slightly.

Adhemar ignored it. If he was going to fool Jocelyn, he'd need to behave differently to everyone. At least for awhile. So he didn't punch Germaine for his impertinence in reiterating the surgeon's words to his lord. The resulting confusion was nearly as satisfactory as punching. Maybe he really could work with this. The idea pleased him. "Carys is cautious. Too much so. I'm feeling a world better since my lovely lady watched over me these hours. The balm of her hand healed far more than the surgeon's cautions."

"My lord?" Germaine blinked several times, shook his head, then shrugged. "I'll get your clothes."

Confusion, Adhemar decided, was going to be fun.

* * *

With Christiana occupied entertaining their hostess, the Lady Alyse, Will stole from the hall. There were enough people there that no one would hopefully notice his absence. Mark met him on the path to the stables.

"What if he brings lots of men with him?"

"He won't," Will said, with the emphasis on the second word. He was certain Adhemar wouldn't because he knew what Adhemar was up to. Adhemar had disdained the idea of poetry because his friends, family and men would consider him daft. Adhemar's words, not Will's. Now, he'd the perfect excuse and if Jocelyn was to believe it, he'd have to sell it to everyone. He wouldn't want to ruin it by attacking Will. The opposite should hold true in public, Will decided. Adhemar would behave in public as though all was well between them, the past rivalry forgotten.

He found Adhemar waiting like last time. It seemed days had gone by since their prior meeting when in fact it was only a few hours. He motioned for Mark to wait outside and strode into the structure.

"What are you playing at, Adhemar?"

Adhemar spread his arms. "Haven't you heard? Apparently, it's all over the camp. My wife has inadvertently cured me of the bad humors plaguing me for years. She is an angel of mercy…" He lowered his arms. "…and has given me a way to use those suggestions without suspicion."

The genial manner bled from him and Will crossed his arms. "You don't get it, do you? She's not stupid. How long do you think you can keep up this pleasant act to everyone?"

He shrugged, spectacularly unconcerned by what Will saw as a major problem to his plan. Adhemar was not a kind man. How on earth was he going to pull this off in any way that would benefit him in the end? "I'll keep it up as long as necessary."

"Your life then? Because it's an ongoing process. An angel she may be, but let up once and she'll crucify you. Believe me. The favor of a goddess is nothing compared to what she'll do in her wrath." Why was he bothering warning him anyway? Will knew very well Adhemar wasn't going to take this advice, not when he'd set himself on this path.

Adhemar was smug in his certainty that he was pulling the wool over Jocelyn's eyes. "I thank both you and your wife for aiding me this day, William. I owe your household a debt and I do honor my debts. If you call upon me for aid someday, I'll aid you in order to make it even between us."

"It's not over, Adhemar. This is a deception and I never suggested --"

"It _is_ over."

When the man had gone, Will shook his head, wondering at the stupidity Adhemar was showing in this dealing with Jocelyn. "I'd hate to be him when she finds out," he remarked to no one in particular, then turned on his heel and left the stable.

* * *

For the first time, Jocelyn couldn't fully ignore Adhemar in bed beside her. Her mind wouldn't disengage, though she'd spent all evening trying. First, she'd wandered the market with Bess, buying whatever had caught her eye. Then, she'd peered in at the banquet to watch the dancing. The sight of Christiana and Will together had sent her fleeing back to the tent -- and Adhemar. Her current problem.

"Adhemar," she ventured, removing his hand from her breast, "Carys says physical activity isn't good for your injury. You're supposed to rest."

"What better rest than the succor of my wife's sweet, nurturing embrace?"

While she couldn't argue that on principle, there'd never been a time in their acquaintance where she'd held him in sweet embrace. Jocelyn sighed. His hand slipped down her to the hem of her shift, caressing along her legs.

Here she'd had a particularly tiring day, what with Christiana's news and dealing with him, and he wanted to fulfill his husbandly rights!

He took the opportunity of her quiet to raise his head a fraction and kiss her, lips feathering along hers, coaxing and gentle, before trailing kisses back down to her breast where he rested his head.

Lord, this was wearing her out!

He wanted to rest his head on her breast, insisting that her perfection was giving him rest. He wanted her to stroke his hair and that horrible bump on his brow. He wanted…. Jocelyn knew what he wanted in the end, yet he kept insisting that her nearness caused ecstasy to grow inside him, that he was content to lay beside her.

Jocelyn wondered again if she'd addled his brains. She sighed again, louder. "Oh, fine. Just get it over with."

Adhemar raised his head at her cross tone. "Get what over with, my love? My goddess? My --"

"Enough. Please. I'm tired. Do it already and let me sleep."

His hand raised, fingers caressing her face. "I would bask in your nearness and sleep safe in your arms."

Jocelyn rolled her eyes. The anticipated seduction she'd thought he was building up to didn't come. Instead, he rested his head once more on her breast and bid her goodnight. Confusion was a rising tide inside her.

Had Adhemar been changed?


	13. Chapter 13

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 13  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.  
Notes: I'm going on vacation this next week, so chapter 14 could be later than usual, perhaps not posted until 3-30-09.

* * *

With tasks done for the day, Kate wandered the market. Nothing caught her eye and she found her steps taking her towards the stables. Wat would be there, she knew, taking time to care for the horses and dream about the tavern he still fantasized of owning someday. She smiled as she walked. His dream wasn't so far-fetched as it sounded. He was steadily gaining such knowledge, for whenever they stayed at or near a tavern, he sought out the proprietor for information on the business. She wondered how many guessed he wasn't flattering them because they really were that hospitable, but was rather doing so for the information they could give.

Peering through the wide doorway, she watched him a moment. He was good with the horses, gentle when gentleness was needed and coaxing in the same way. Kate crossed her arms. "Are you sleeping here again tonight," she called.

Wat glanced at her. "The more privacy we give them, the closer they'll be."

Their latest idea. They left Will and Christiana together alone in hopes of seeing more progress in their relationship. Adam had shrugged and set off each night for some pretty young thing to seduce and Mark had given them a very disagreeable scowl. He disliked sleeping in the stables and so discovered a nice place somewhere out by the line of trees on the other side of the meadow. Kate suspected he'd also found a pretty young thing to seduce.

Wat had recently given to remarking that Will had reached new heights of stupidity. He said as much again. "I'd thought his antics with Lady Jocelyn were ridiculous, but this business with Christiana? She's his wife, with all of the sexing things that _should_ be going on --"

"Sexing things?" Kate snickered. This was a new way of saying it. She joined him, setting her bag by his bundle of belongings.

"Yes, sexing things. Is he blind? Because I'd bed her were I he and not wait months to do it. It's getting to be…" He appeared to flounder about and finally settled on the one word he'd been using, "…ridiculous. "

"For all Will knows of the world," she glanced over her shoulder at him, "he's still an honorable, chivalrous innocent. He doesn't want to go to her encumbered by his emotions for Jocelyn."

"He'd better go to her soon. And damn honor and chivalry. Does he not have needs? Men have needs, Kate."

"So do women." She made herself at home on the blanket he'd spread out across the cushioning of straw. A few pieces poked her, but she ignored them. Blanket covered straw certainly wasn't the worst thing she'd ever lain on in her lifetime.

He snorted. "Christiana must either be a saint or extremely naïve."

She leaned towards the latter. Over the months, she'd heard enough stories from Christiana regarding how she and Jocelyn were raised to conclude the two had been remarkably sheltered. It explained some of Jocelyn's behavior the previous season. A woman raised on romantic ideals had no true idea of how the world could work. With those ideals love could conquer all and there was no pain of loss in the end. "One need is to never feel we are in the shadow of another woman in a man's heart. He tries --"

"He tries nothing and that's the problem! He's not bedding his wife."

"He will." Kate was certain of it.

"Before the world ends do you think?"

"Yes." She'd seen Will watching Christiana lately and if Wat had been paying attention instead of flirting with Agnes he'd have noticed it too. But no, he'd been spending all his free time sweet talking Agnes so she'd give him food whenever he wanted. "Any day now."

"You've been saying that for weeks." Wat resumed his task of brushing Will's horse. "I can't take any more of this waiting."

"It's all we _can_ do."

He put the brush away and joined her on the blanket. "I know it is and I hate it." Leaning back, he put his hands behind his head. "Distract me, Kate."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

Wat's gaze turned mischievous. "I don't know. Tell me a story. Entertain me with fiction."

"A story?" She laughed, then nodded. "One story, I suppose. I'm no Geoff though, so don't be expecting something grand."

"You're better than Geoff," he said, closing his eyes. "Prettier by far, too."

Kate's smile faded. He really was sweet, wasn't he? Sitting back as well, she told the grandest, most far-fetched tale she could think of, about a squire who gambles with a noble and becomes the richest tavern owner in the world.

* * *

The dancing was as heavenly as Christiana had hoped it'd be. Will had taken to dancing the way he seemed to take to everything else -- like he'd been born for it. Maybe he had, she decided as they walked arm in arm towards their tent. Maybe his entire purpose for being born had been to crash the barrier between noble and peasant and raise to this station. Maybe he'd been born just to marry her.

They entered the tent. A candle was burning, lighting their way. Someone had turned down the bedcovers, probably Adam, she decided. While he didn't speak much, he had a way of getting things done. Maybe tonight would be the night. Maybe tonight, Will would take her in his arms and do more than kiss her. Christiana hoped he would. She'd an almost desperate yearning for the consummation of their marriage that had begun….

She undid her surcoat. If she was honest with herself, the yearning had become unbearable the moment she'd told Jocelyn the news. She wasn't a wife in full. Not yet and certainly not like Jocelyn thought. Christiana and Will hadn't reached that point in their relationship. Hadn't it been long enough?

A glance over her shoulder found him half undressed, his brows drawn together in a frown. He appeared to be lost in his thoughts, all of the laughter from moments earlier gone from his eyes. With such an expression upon his face, he seemed unapproachable and very far from her.

Christiana finished undressing and slid between the sheets still clad in her shift as usual. She wanted to reach out to him, to touch him and ask him what he was thinking. Instead, she remained silent and after a moment, Christiana rolled onto her side away from him, wondering if seeing Jocelyn earlier had returned that lady to the forefront of his thoughts. She knew he'd seen Jocelyn there in the stands and couldn't voice the question or bear to think his answer might be yes. If he was thinking of Jocelyn, then Christiana truly didn't want to know.

She wasn't going to mention Jocelyn at all. As long as she didn't mention her, she could pretend that Jocelyn no longer had any bearing upon their lives and it was only the two of them.

* * *

Christiana would have been surprised by Will's thoughts if she'd asked. His only concern for Jocelyn at present was that she didn't do something to provoke Adhemar into killing her in a rage. Or that she wouldn't kill Adhemar in an equal amount of rage. He knew well Jocelyn's temper, though he'd never felt the full brunt of it. He'd given the counsel he'd been in position to give and if Adhemar didn't choose to take it then Adhemar would deal with the consequences. Will would have thought Adhemar was familiar with the ways of angry women by now considering what his reputation was.

No, he wasn't thinking about Jocelyn at that particular moment, but rather Christiana and how their relationship was going to change yet again when he finally took this next step forward with her. Stripping completely, he slid into bed and close to her, moving to embrace her. He found her tense, as though she was upset by something. No amount of coaxing could get her to tell him what the matter was. She simply wouldn't say.

He felt his enthusiasm for seduction slipping away and decided that tomorrow was a new day. Tomorrow would be a new beginning.

Will was awake early, watching the sun rise and the clouds quickly obscuring the light. The air even smelled wet. Rain was coming and quickly too by his reckoning. The games were going to be cancelled and he didn't truly care about it. His thoughts were on his wife. Still. He'd dreamed of her all night, rousing dreams where he'd woken with the urge to just wake her right then and to hell with seduction. For her sake, he'd restrained himself. He wanted her full consent, not sleepy acquiescence.

The truth between them was that Christiana didn't get it. She didn't understand. Will was going to have to spell it out for her.

If his love for Jocelyn had been an arrow piercing his heart and taking him over in seconds, then the opposite was true of Christiana. There was not a single moment he could point to as the moment he knew he'd come to love her as well. He simply found thoughts of her growing in number until he realized he now thought more of her and her happiness than of Jocelyn.

As it should be. He'd come fully into the present.

Where once the lady had reigned supreme in all of her glorious beauty, the maid now settled. Christiana was no less beauteous than Jocelyn. Often, he'd go to ask her to do something and fine it already completed or very nearly so. She anticipated him in a way Jocelyn never had. When his shoulders and back ached from training, she rubbed those aches away. Christiana kept them on a regular schedule and gave him the sort of advice he'd once hoped she'd be able to give.

While it was true Jocelyn had never been given the chance to anticipate him thus, he now couldn't see it happening if they _had_ married. Not unless he'd asked. None of this meant that he'd stopped loving Jocelyn. He'd always love her and keep a place for her in his heart. However, that place was no longer first. She'd slipped back past Christiana and he smiled as it occurred to him that he'd successfully willed himself into loving Christiana -- a woman he'd never really thought anything of until a marriage between them was proposed.

He entered their tent and closed the flap. The others had been given orders not to interrupt them.

Christiana was still in her shift, laying out her clothes for the day, merely giving a quick glance his way. Her long hair was loose and she sipped from a cup as she made her decision. He noticed she'd eaten the bread and cheese he'd left for her. She often woke hungry, unable to wait for a later meal. Will had taken to leaving a little something for her to tide her over to the meal.

Will laid his coat aside. During the wee hours of the night and in-between vibrant dreams, he'd come to a final decision regarding their relationship, one that was no surprise really. He'd known this day would come. The surprise was that he was as excited for this as he'd been when Jocelyn had come to him. He couldn't wait for her to be his in full.

"It's the perfect day to go back to bed," he told her, crossing to her to take the cup and put it aside.

"It is?"

"There's nothing to be done today that can't wait until tomorrow, is there?"

"No," she admitted, lips curving up a fraction. "But I can't spend all day in my shift."

Raising one hand, he cupped her jaw, thumb sweeping across her cheek. "So spend the day in here out of it." His chest felt as though his heart was trying to break through it and Will wondered if she could hear that quick pounding.

Christiana went very still, hands resting against his sides in a tentative fashion. "You're serious?"

If he wanted to back out and claim he was teasing now was the time.

Placing his free hand on her hip, he gave it a gentle squeeze. "Absolutely." Bending his head, he kissed her. Her response was warm, yet held the slightest bit of hesitation. Drawing back, Will suddenly understood that hesitation. Fear lurked in her expressive eyes.

Fear of him? Surely that wasn't true. She couldn't be afraid of him. Jocelyn had certainly held no fear. Indeed, she'd been bold in her seduction…. But Christiana wasn't bold. That difference highlighted what he needed to do. She had to be put at ease. She needed to relax.

And he needed to seduce her just like he'd planned.

How?

His glance fell on her brush, inspiration striking. Kate had once said that it was a luxury for many women to have someone brush their hair. To the amusement of all at the time, Wat had volunteered to brush her hair anytime she liked. Kate had declined the offer. For awhile after that she'd been almost wary of Wat.

He'd brush Christiana's hair and seduce her slowly. No quick, tempestuous ride of passion, but rather one that simmered slowly to boil. Taking time would be the key, he decided. He'd simply have to be patient, tamping down his own needs until she was more than ready.

Will set to work seducing his wife.

* * *

I'm not afraid.

Christiana repeated those words to herself over and over, hoping to give herself courage. They sat on the bed, him half behind her, close enough that the warmth of his skin warmed her.

Slowly, he dragged the brush through her hair in long slow strokes. "Tell me one happy childhood memory," he said.

The strokes of the brush, that gentle pull over and over, were soothing and Christiana let her eyes slip shut. It had been long years since anyone had brushed her hair like this. From the time she'd been old enough to do so herself, it had been her task and she'd hurried through it before Jocelyn woke. Now she still brushed it herself, with Kate only brushing the sections she was braiding to keep them smooth. Will took his time, making it a sensual experience for her.

"It was my mother who held ambition for us in the beginning. She found places for myself and my sisters, then insisted my father negotiate well the terms of service. I was very small when she picked me up, gave me a doll she'd crafted just for me, and told me what was happening." The brush strokes slowed even more. She felt his fingers along the side of her face, smoothing her hair back. "I was very happy that day. I was the one meant to go to the real lady and I'd learn things my sisters probably wouldn't. Also, my mother had made that doll just for me. She'd carved the face from a bit of wood, sewed the body and clothes in her few moments of spare time. I was the youngest girl, the last to go, and the only one who received a grand gift of her mother's own handiwork. See, those dolls she made were special. They were for selling, not for keeping, yet she gave me one of my own to accompany me on my journey."

The brush was replaced by his hand slipping through her hair. The sensation made her shiver with enjoyment. He moved closer, her shoulder now touching his chest, his head bent very close to hers.

"Perhaps you were the only one who'd appreciate such a gift."

She opened her eyes. "I was. I'd sneak into her work area just to look at the dolls. I still have it, you know, delicate from much love an packed in the bottom of my trunk."

"Mmm." A kiss was placed at her temple. "You'll have to show it to me some day." His breath tickled her ear.

Christiana's stomach did a peculiar flip-flop inside her. "I will." His tongue traced her ear, her pulse tapping fast. She couldn't think of a single thing to say, nor did she find she _wanted_ to speak. To speak would be to pull herself from this pleasurable dream.

As his kisses continued, ever pressing on her neck and shoulder, she felt both hot and cold at the same time, her heart a wild thing in her chest. Christiana turned her head to look at him.

His gaze was intense upon her, the need displayed there giving him an almost sleepy expression. His hands urged her to turn towards him and she did, leaning closer. That slight movement was met by him, his mouth taking hers in a kiss far more passionate than any they'd shared previously.

The spark of desire inside her burst into flame, moving through her in steady degrees, razing that tiny sliver of fear she'd held. This was not a man who'd hurt her on purpose. Any hurts she felt would be accidental and most thoroughly atoned for.

The fabric of his shirt was soft against her fingertips and wasn't there for long. Breaking that string of wild, heated kisses, he leaned back, whipped the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. His skin was hot against her fingertips and she explored that exposed flesh until he stilled her wandering hands and turned her on their bed. There was no time for fears to rise again, both her shift and the rest of his clothes gone before she'd fully registered it happening. She was swept along in that river passion, molded to him, finally learning what ecstasy was. The beauty Jocelyn had told her of was hers to experience and so she did without further qualms.

* * *

Wat sat with Kate on the bench by the fire pit outside the tent. The driving rain had abated for now, but the dark clouds in the sky swiftly moving this way portended more to come. Neither Will nor Christiana had emerged from their chamber for hours and Wat found his hopes rising. They'd missed the noon meal, the hours flying by until they were in danger of missing the evening one as well. This could only bode well for that plan to get the two together.

The tent flap rustled, Will poking his head out. "Good, you're here. Umm…we won't be at banquet tonight. Is there any food? We're a bit hungry."

"We'll bring some." He shared a relieved grin with Kate and they set out to find a meal for the couple inside the tent.

* * *

The dawn was pretty, the colors beautiful. Jocelyn watched the sun rise, a bit sad to see what could have been a fine day obliterated by the darkness of stormclouds. It was going to rain and she found herself pensive.

It had seemed like a good idea to hit Adhemar. In retrospect, she was afraid it was going to be disastrous. How was Adhemar going to take charge of his armies and household when he was like this? How was he going to function when all he did was compose poetry for her -- his goddess? He'd blathered on to all hours the previous night until she'd finally managed to slip into sleep. She could almost hear Katherine screeching that Jocelyn had ruined her son. There was going to be no peace in that house at all.

"My lady?" Bess's voice intruded upon her musings. "He's awake."

Perhaps she was worrying for nothing. Surely a good night's sleep had restored Adhemar to his usual humor. Sleep could do wonders she knew. "How does he seem?" Jocelyn found herself anxious for Bess's answer.

Bess tilted her head a fraction, hands clasping, twisting nervously together. "He's not changed, my lady. He's asking for you."

Sighing, her hopes of his recovery dashed, Jocelyn walked to the tent and entered it. Germaine was there, and Carys. Jocelyn took a moment to gather her thoughts, then strode into the midst of them, taking a seat at the end of the bed, trying to look like a dutiful, concerned spouse. She was, in a way. Hurting Adhemar as she'd done was going to hurt her she suspected. Her impulsive blow had consequences. This was nothing at all like her retaliation against her brother years earlier.

"Well?"

"I'm feeling perfectly well, my dear," Adhemar said, leaning forward, his smile widening a bit as he perused her. "Like I've been freed. You're my angel."

Carys and Germaine were both watching him with identical expressions of cautious concern. Jocelyn made a quick decision. "We're going home. This'll be easier without curious eyes watching." They turned their gazes to her, Germaine quirking a brow. "Without as _many_ curious eyes," she amended.

"I can compete," Adhemar announced, "as long as my Venus remains at my side."

Jocelyn swallowed hard and looked away from him. "Ready him for travel and break camp. Germaine, inform our host that we're grateful for his hospitality, but that we must take our leave. I want us away by noon."

* * *

Wat was gone when Kate woke, but he'd thoughtfully covered her with his blanket. With their mission regarding Will and Christiana completed, she'd slept heavily. Kate yawned wide, rolling her head on her neck. It sounded as though the rain had passed, which meant she could get to work again. Deep mud meant slipped shoes and other things that she could make some money from.

Standing, she stretched. It was still early, she noticed, not much traffic outside. Excellent. Bending, she snagged the blankets and folded them. Life was going to be a bit easier now that Will and Christiana had finished that particular dance. No more would Kate and Wat have to hint and arrange things. Life would progress most naturally from here on out.

She was still thinking such thoughts, when an arm snaked about her waist, dragging her back against a male form. Kate reacted instinctively, hitting and kicking first and when that didn't get her anywhere, she raised her voice in protest and cries for help. Surely someone would help her!

* * *

His winnings thus far tucked away, Robert turned to his servant to give instructions and found his attention drawn to a brawl occurring by the stables.

"Remain here," he ordered, making his way through the crowd. It was not a brawl, he found, unless men fought young women now. A scruffy man was attempting to carry a struggling woman along the street. Robert watched long enough to determine the circumstances. This woman certainly didn't wish to be carried off. Her protests were vehement, her language coarse and loud.

His glance turned along the street. People were minding their business, ignoring the spectacle. Robert snorted. That wouldn't do. He started to stride forward and was shoved, a man hurrying past him. The would-be kidnapper was set to route in moments, Robert moving closer to eavesdrop the resulting conversation.

"Gavin, thank you."

Gavin? Robert peered more closely at the two. Well, well. So this is where he'd gotten to. Robert was going to have to have a chat with Gavin soon. It was long overdue.

"It's okay, Kate. Why isn't Wat here with you?" His voice was frantic, worried.

The woman -- Kate -- stared up at Gavin a long moment. "He has duties for Will, for Sir Will." She corrected herself as though unused to saying that title and Robert realized who she was. This was William Thatcher's smith, the very one he'd been discreetly inquiring about.

He smiled and waited. Such a slender small woman to make such glorious armor.

"He should be here with you. I can't watch over you constantly."

"Wait, what? What's this? Watching over me?" She stepped back from her rescuer. "Why are you watching me, Gavin?"

Gavin shook his head. "I can't, Kate. I'm not at liberty to say."

"Not at liberty? I don't need you watching me. I certainly don't need any man thinking he has to guard me from danger. I'm perfectly capable of watching out for myself. I did so long before you met me."

"I just did save you! If I'd not come running when I heard your voice in protest, you'd be taken right now."

She crossed her arms, shook her head. "Go. Don't seek me out again."

Robert watched several long moments of ineffectual pleading on Gavin's part and when the man had gone and Kate returned into the stables, Robert followed. He'd a few things to discuss with this pretty little smith.

* * *

Kate heard footsteps behind her and sighed. The revelation that Gavin had been watching her had brought all sorts of thoughts into play. She'd begun wondering if Wat was right, questioning that trust she'd held for Gavin. "Gavin, I told you to leave me alone." Turning, she found a nobleman standing there. He looked very familiar, though she couldn't place him. He'd dark lightly curled hair that had a bit of silver dusting it and the build of a knight. "My lord. I beg your pardon." Kate lowered her gaze so as not to seem disrespectful. "I thought you were someone else."

"Yes, I saw the commotion. You're Sir William's smith Kate, correct? William Thatcher, the Champion at London?"

"I am." She watched him come closer, very aware of how empty the stables were right now. If this man chose to harm her, there'd be no one running to rescue unless Wat, Adam, or Mark happened by.

"Good."

Glancing up at the satisfaction in his tone, Kate glimpsed a coolly calculating smile that made her shiver, recognition clicking into place. That smile was Adhemar's smile. She could see Adhemar then in the man's face and bearing. This had to be Adhemar's uncle, the one Will had asked about. The realization didn't put her at ease. Instead, her apprehension mounted as he took slow strides towards her.

"Let us have a dialogue together, you and I. Alone. I wish no ears to overhear us."

Kate swallowed hard. She was suddenly very afraid he was like his nephew.


	14. Chapter 14

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 14  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

* * *

Wat was concerned for Kate. Since he'd caught up with her mid-morning, he'd noticed an odd pensiveness about her. She wasn't happy like he'd thought she'd be. After all, their mission was accomplished. Shouldn't she be relieved? Instead, he found her almost upset, slamming things about her work tent and muttering to herself. He caught the phrase 'arrogant, contemptible men' several times, but when he asked her about it, she told him to mind his own business.

Determined not to let her bad humor set his own day awry, Wat left her to her temper, making his way back to where Will waited to compete. The rain had pushed the games back a day. It'd be difficult out there on the field due to the mud, but he didn't think Will would have any trouble. He, too, was in a mood, just like Kate, though Wat knew the reason for it.

Adhemar had gone home, which meant the opponent Will wanted to face was gone. Even though London had shown him the victor, Will still considered Adhemar a good opponent. Wat considered it stupidity. Adhemar was a cheater and manipulator undeserving of the title of 'knight' or 'noble'. Birth as noble class didn't necessarily mean the man was noble, as Will had proved last season. Will reminded him that Adhemar would be his opponent as long as they were both traveling the tournament circuit.

It certainly didn't mean Wat had to like it. In fact, he thought it was a blessing from God that Jocelyn had leveled Adhemar with his own armor. Talk about Divine Judgment!

Glancing off to the side, he saw that Gavin chatting with a nobleman. Or rather the nobleman talking to Gavin. Gavin himself looked very discomfited, even squirming as he stood there. It was clear to Wat that he was being given a dressing down. Wouldn't that be nice to hear? He wondered if the man was Gavin's lord and if he could edge close enough to eavesdrop.

"Wat."

"Hmm?"

Will waved a hand in front of his face. "A little help would be nice. I can't tie this myself and Christiana is off to the stands to watch." Will looked around, annoyance crawling his features. "Where the hell are Adam and Mark, anyway? They should be here by now."

Making a mental note to find out more about Gavin and that lord later, Wat turned his full attention to Will's concerns.

* * *

Finished with the woman smith, Robert followed his other query towards the games in progress. The woman, Kate, hadn't been pleased with his proposal, but she'd agreed to consider it. He'd have thought she'd be wishing for business, but she seemed to have an attachment to William Thatcher and his household. Sir Will wasn't her liege lord, he'd discovered. She could go where she wished when she wished, yet she chose to remain with him. It interested Robert to see loyalty of that sort. His wish was to rebuild his home with such men and women.

Ignoring the cries of vendors with food and goods, he stepped beside Gavin and slung an arm about his shoulders.

"Well, if it isn't Sir Gavin of Anjou!"

Gavin shoved Robert's arm away and whirled to face him, hissing, "Not so loud, man! Do you want to get me killed?"

"Can't I greet my favorite brother-in-law with enthusiasm? You've been shockingly lax in writing. Anne's been rather distressed that you've not sent her tales of your adventures in the world for months now." He paused, thinking back. "Well over a year, by my count. What have you been up to, Gavin?"

"I've not had the time."

"For shame." Robert sobered, fixing a hard stare upon the younger man. Gavin was Anne's younger brother by just over a year, the two of them the youngest of the siblings. "Your circumstances interest me. Especially the bit on why anyone would want to kill you."

"I can't say."

"Of course you can. Open your mouth and let the words come tumbling out. I promise to listen and not remark upon whatever tale you have until it's well and truly finished." He crossed his arms, raising his brows in expectation.

Gavin was nervous, his eyes in constant motion scanning the street. "Let this go, Robert."

"I can't. I can see you've trouble." Gavin's clothes were a sorry state, a jumble of worn items and those well-cared for. He resembled those country knights Adhemar had such disdain for. Robert decided he could excuse Gavin's appearance if he'd been traveling hard.

With a last glance towards his right, where the jousters were getting ready for their turn, Gavin nodded. "Fine. Meet me at the stables once the joust gets underway."

"Why there? Surely my tent would be a more private place?"

A half smile tugged his lips. "I don't trust you not to tie me up and send me home to face Anne's tongue."

Robert laughed. If he'd thought doing so would curb Gavin's wanderlust any, he'd do it. The truth was, Gavin didn't want to be tied down anywhere. He'd announced his intention to travel the world alone years earlier, taken funds he'd not asked for from his parents, and set out, periodically sending long letters to Anne of his adventures.

"Tempting, but not a solution. Very well. I'll meet you there, but if you miss our meeting, I'll come looking for you."

"I understand."

He was sure Gavin did. Robert wouldn't hesitate to find him and drag him home.

* * *

Gavin was in a horrible mess of a place. He despised being beholden to Henry of Burgundy of all people, but it couldn't be avoided. Not if he wanted to get his daughter back.

He headed for the stables, finding a spot to sit on a stool there, his mind traveling backwards in time to five years earlier. He'd never make saint, that was for sure. Anne had once compared him to Adhemar in his carousing ways, but it hadn't affected his life until Lady Rosalind had sent him a letter.

He'd seduced her at a friend's wedding and left her pregnant. Outraged, her family had sent her off to have the child in disgrace and somehow, she'd gotten word to him, giving him directions to find them and a plea that he save them from disgrace. Lady Rosalind, as often happens with fate, had died giving birth, never knowing she'd born a daughter. For awhile, Gavin had denied the charge of fatherhood. How could he claim a child that might not be his? Finally, his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he'd gone to collect the girl.

Even as a baby, Mary had looked just like him and had a sweetness of nature that was like a ray of light upon his days.

Henry held her captive. He'd been naming tasks for Gavin to do to earn her back for fourteen months now. This last one would gain Gavin his daughter, Henry claimed. The problem? He didn't want to turn Kate over to him. In following her and watching her, he'd come to like her and respect her. He'd spent far more time than she realized watching her, mind churning plans on how to foil Henry on all accounts. Kate was a rare woman in these times, relying on a man only as long as it pleased her to do so. So many women had the men in their lives to tell them their identity -- his own sister included --, but Kate knew who she was and was unapologetic for it.

Gavin loved to watch her work. She had a confident, strong air about her and yet, at the same time, a hint of fragility. He'd no doubt she could, for the most part, protect herself. After all, she'd been working and traveling on her own before she'd met William Thatcher. But Henry was a larger threat than she would be able to handle on her own. Gavin longed to protect her from him as much as he longed to sit with her and tell her his own story. He ached to call her his own when all was said and done. Now wasn't that a fine kettle of fish?

There could never be anything between them. He knew it'd never work. A nobleman and a peasant woman? He'd be laughed at, scorned far and wide. It was far easier to pretend to be a servant just to stay close to her. Many in his acquaintance would be horrified to learn he was considering doing just that. Maybe he could pledge himself to Sir William and let the mantle of noble life fall fully from his shoulders. After all, there was a certain freedom to following and not leading. Sir William had to be a fair master, for Kate and the others seemed to adore him. Maybe he'd let himself fall into anonymity, take his daughter and ask Kate to accept him -- a fallen noble with no desire save a quiet life with her.

Robert arrived, peering cautiously into the large room, before entering. "Well Gavin, what have you gotten yourself into?"

There was a chance Robert might understand. He'd always seemed less scornful than Adhemar. "I've lied to all of you these years, Robert. I didn't go off to see the world." He held up a hand. "Hear me out before you speak. Please."

He crossed his arms, leaning against one stall. "Continue."

"Nearly seven years ago, I attended a friend's wedding in London. It was there that I met the most beautiful, kind-hearted woman I'd ever laid eyes on. I'm afraid I took advantage of her, seducing her, and then leaving her to face the consequences. She wasn't a wanton girl. Upon finding herself pregnant by me, she sent me a missive, asking that I save her from her disgrace." He found he could no longer look at Robert, turning away. "I'm ashamed to say that I decided I wasn't the father of her child. I abandoned her and in turn, her family delivered an ultimatum. If I was the father, then I'd one year from the child's birth in which to collect her. After that, she'd be given to a peasant family to raise."

Braving a glance to Robert, he found his brother-in-law thoughtful, eyes narrowed. There was no censure or disapproval displayed there.

"The letter had been delayed in reaching me. I was aware, of course, of the date she was to give birth and calculated that traveling as fast as I could, I'd only barely reach the child before my time was up. Robert, I couldn't let it be given away like that, not if it was mine. It was a child of noble blood from both myself and Rosalind. Bastard or no, it deserved one of us at least. I'd thought to marry Rosalind, to save her from her disgrace as she'd asked, but I was far too late on that. She'd died in the birth."

"I'm sorry, Gavin."

"I'd been a selfish bastard. You know, I've always liked children. Yours and Anne's are darlings. I'd hoped to have several myself someday." Leaning down, he rested his forearms on his thighs and continued his tale. "I was presented with a little girl they'd called Mary. Lord, Robert, she looks just like me! There's no denying her father is me."

"So all of these years of letters were made up?"

He laughed. "Yes. I found a man most willing to write fantastic adventures for me. Geoff's advice was well-needed and I was sad when he decided to leave London to travel. For awhile, I kept contact with Philippa his wife, but when I fell in with Henry…."

"How did that happen? I don't recall you as the sort of rogue who'd fall in with men like he's reported as being."

"I was stupid," he admitted. "I believed one of his lies and he was able to kidnap Mary and her nurse. Now, I do get to see Mary every so often and she knows I'm her father. She clings to me and cries and it breaks my heart when Henry's men rip her from me yet again at the start of another task he has for me. He holds her over me. You see, Henry is always in desperate need of money. Every task he's had for me has been to gain him funds, but this latest is so thoroughly repugnant that I can't bear to actually go through with it. I've been sabotaging it every step of the way."

Robert stood tall and came to him, dragging another stool over and sitting. "Tell me the circumstances and we'll figure a way out for you. Perhaps a rescue of your daughter?"

Hope swelled inside him. "Do you mean that? You'd help me?"

"Of course. You're Anne's brother, Gavin. You're family. If I'll help Adhemar, then I'll certainly do the same for you."

"There's a woman smith here who gained some notoriety last season --"

"Kate."

"You know of her?" Gavin sat back, studying Robert closely.

"Of course I know of her. I just spoke with her regarding a matter." He waved a hand. "Continue."

"Henry wants her. He wants her to build him and his mercenaries armor and then when she's done with that, he wants her to remain with his army, but not in smith capacity. He plans to turn her into a whore to his men for his profit. He'd keep her chained, hidden, her usefulness as a smith done. I won't allow him to. I'd thought that one final task would buy Mary freedom, but I can't sacrifice Kate. I've come to know her, Robert. She's one of those rare women that has such spirit and zest for life that it almost blinds you."

Robert's smile was knowing. "She's a peasant."

"I know that. I can hardly forget it."

"And you're in love with her. Your heart has fallen, my boy!"

Gavin stared at him. Had he become obvious or was it only that Robert knew him well? "Maybe it has and maybe it hasn't. All I know is that I can't let Henry complete his plans. Besides, Kate has her Wat to love her from afar. She doesn't need another man doing so." A thought occurred to him all of a sudden. "Money. You could lend me the funds to pay for Mary! Henry won't turn down a goodly sum --"

He shook his head, sadness slipping across his features. "I can't. My manor went up in flames from the soldiers months ago and all of my material goods with it. Anne, the children, and I have been at Adhemar's and I'm only now starting to rebuild my wealth. In fact, that's what I went to Kate about. I proposed that she be the smith in residence in my home while we're rebuilding. Her new method would be well appreciated in other ways than armor." He shrugged. "She's attached to Sir William, though. Her loyalty to him astounds me."

"She's quite a woman," Gavin agreed. "So what do I do?" Surely Robert would have some plan of action that he himself hadn't considered? In his younger days, Robert had been quite a soldier.

"Have you considered telling Sir William of the threat to his smith?"

"I tried. I told his herald that Henry wasn't to be trusted."

Here was that scornful expression Gavin had thought he'd find earlier. "You've spent too long in a servant's guise. Go to him as yourself. Then, they'll be on guard and able to protect her."

"I can't do that. If Henry thinks I've warned them, I'll be killed and if I'm caught giving a warning…. Mary dies."

"Ahh." Robert's brows rose. "Quite the quandary. Do you think you can stay him longer?"

"Have you an idea?"

"I might at that. I'll need time to think on it."

Robert was closemouthed, refusing to speak until he could work out the plans, leaving Gavin to wonder if he was ever going to be free of Henry again.

* * *

The journey home was going to be a long one. Jocelyn had sent the bulk of men ahead to prepare the household for his circumstances and it was a small group remaining. She assumed that role of wife he'd been wanting her to assume for months now -- handling correspondence with Germaine, travel arrangements, seeing to their comfort when they stopped. She did all these things with admirable skill.

It amused Adhemar to let her handle all matters. Besides, it gave him free time to think up those inane lines of poetry. It took forever to compose one line of idiotic, romantic verse. He didn't know how those writers did it. The best part, however, was in the evenings when they bedded down.

Jocelyn would lie beside him, a hand upon his face, fingers tracing his features as though he was a stranger she'd never seen before. She would let herself be seduced, always watching him with wide, cautious eyes. No tears, no angry cries of betrayal, only…acquiescence. Beautiful acquiescence. Too bad he was certain it wouldn't last for long. He could see her pulling herself back the closer they got to home, making herself once more that distant lady he'd been trying to reach for months.

No matter. He was one step closer to having wooed her back to herself.

The days passed, the weather warming.

Jocelyn drew up beside him. She handled her horse well, without that effort to control the animal he'd witnessed from some women. Some day he wanted to race her across the meadow near their home, to see if she'd push herself and the animal to beat him. "One word on goddesses and flowers --"

"Beautiful," he interrupted. "Both of them."

She sighed, frowning. "Adhemar, please. We're almost back and Katherine will be waiting, demanding to know why we didn't stay. She'll want to know --"

"I trust you'll handle her as you do everything else. With grace and tact. She can go back to her own life now." This would be much easier without his mother meddling in the middle of things. "With her gone, I can concentrate on you instead of her distractions."

"I'll handle her?"

"Yes, of course." As if it was a foregone conclusion that Jocelyn would do so. If she did it, then he wouldn't have to. He much preferred to watch her dispatch his mother. "Say what you must to release her, but don't be long, beloved. I must have you at my side."

She laughed and it must have been his imagination that the laughter had a slightly hysterical ring to it. "Always at your side. And in your heart and mind and coursing through your veins!" Jocelyn shook her head. "I must confer with Germaine." With a kick, she urged her mount faster, leaving Adhemar to ride by himself.

He could hardly wait for her interaction with his mother!

* * *

How could a simple tap have changed a man so completely? Jocelyn pondered this question as they traveled. Surely bad humors couldn't have influenced him that much? Everyone was surprised by how different he was, many murmuring that they liked the old volatile Adhemar better.

She tried to avoid conversation with him during the day, for he turned everything into lines of bad poetry and while it was lovely to hear how her beauty enchanted him, she'd like to discuss something else now and then. Perhaps how the war with France was going or what new torture method he'd heard about. She'd even settle for some gossip on which supposedly virtuous maiden had already been with child when she'd married that man old enough to be her grandfather.

"You bear this burden so well, my lady." Germaine remarked with a glance back at Adhemar. He and Bess had been wonderful allies these past days, keeping her sane when Adhemar's new self threatened to break her down into hysteria.

She grimaced. "Please don't, Germaine. I get enough flattery from him these days."

He nodded. "Oh, of course. Forgive me."

"It's not your fault. This is entirely my folly and I'll pay the penance for addling his brains." Another hour would see them home, she calculated. Then, she'd need to take over all those tasks Adhemar apparently had no interest in performing anymore. It'd be like he was off to battle and not even there unless…

A solution to this problem niggled at the back of her brain, but nothing that would come into focus. Jocelyn sighed again and looked over her shoulder. Adhemar was being pensive again, that piercing stare so focused upon her that she fancied she could feel it along her flesh. At times, he seemed close to his old self, but then he'd open his mouth and spout out something silly.

Whoever would have thought that she'd ever see Count Adhemar behaving this way? A year ago she'd have laughed at the notion, along with the prediction that she'd marry him and not Will.

Anne, Katherine, and assorted servants were waiting in the courtyard for them. Squaring her shoulders, Jocelyn mentally prepared herself for the confrontation that was coming. It was time to take over her duties as mistress of the household and she was going to have to wrest the keys from Katherine's grasp. That one wasn't going to step down without a fight.

When she'd dismounted, she took her time settling her skirts, giving herself a few more moments of preparation. Adhemar, of course, went into immediate conversation with the steward, leaving her on her own to greet Anne and Katherine. Very well. She cast a long dark glance his direction, then turned to face the two women waiting.

Anne smiled wide. "You look well, Jocelyn."

Katherine's snort was loud. "I should thrash you, girl, for striking him, but I assume he's already beaten you for daring." Her insolent glance slid down Jocelyn and back up. "Where the bruises wouldn't show. You'll be mostly healed by now, but let it be a lesson to you in the future. You mind your place and stay where you've been bidden."

"You're mistaken, Katherine. I've not been beaten." Jocelyn stepped close, enjoying the way suspicion gathered in Katherine's eyes. Had she any idea what was about to happen? What her precious son was letting Jocelyn do? "You may retire to your dower lands as soon as you're ready to travel. We'll not be needing your services to run this household any longer. I'm more than capable of taking over." She didn't look at Anne. Doing so might undo her calm and she'd begin laughing at finally giving Katherine the heave-ho, that very thing she'd been wanting.

Katherine stood up as tall and she could. "How dare you speak to me that way!"

"I'm mistress of this manor and you will leave."

"I'm a greater lady then you'll ever be. Adhemar," Katherine called, indignation coloring her voice. "Do you hear --"

He looked their way, expression calm. Under normal circumstances he'd have entered into an argument with Katherine on the matter, but instead, he answered, "Jocelyn has full authority on this. Thomas will see to your traveling needs. You'll be very comfortable in those lands father left for you." He smiled, an agreeable gesture that caused gasps among the servants present. Adhemar didn't smile like that. Ever. "Of course, we'll send frequent letters inquiring as to your welfare. I'd see you taken care of as well as you've ever taken care of our family and guests in residence."

Thinking back to Katherine's methods of care, Jocelyn's triumph in ousting her began to fade. Adhemar knew well how his mother needled those she thought were undeserving of her attention. But would his new self act on his knowledge?

Shock settled upon Katherine, her mouth opening several times before she could voice her words. "You're sending me away? Me? The one who's loved you and raised you and supported you? I've favored you above all my other children and this is what you do?"

He shrugged. "I've a wife now to love me and support me."

She gasped, looking back at Jocelyn. "What have you done to him," she demanded. "My Adhemar would hardly toss me from his hall like baggage. You've bewitched him, haven't you? I should have known that's how you were after that mess in London. First the peasant and then my son. How many other men have you worked your wiles upon?"

"His hall," Jocelyn agreed. "You've your own hall that has hardly held your presence for a long while. I suggest you go as you've been told to do." She glanced at Adhemar, found that watchful stare returned to her and quickly added, "I'll make sure you're looked after."

Katherine laughed. "Looked after? Like an infirmed animal? No, thank you. I'll see to myself as I've done for years…daughter." Turning on her heel, Katherine stalked into the manor, leaving the gathered party in the courtyard to gape after her.

Jocelyn told herself that this was for the best.

* * *

Anne watched Adhemar through the entire drama. Somewhere there, in the middle of Katherine's hurried exit, she saw satisfaction flicker in his eyes, his expression smug. What on earth was he up to? It was no secret that he'd wanted Katherine to leave for awhile now, but why this method? Why give that task to Jocelyn when it was his own to perform? Had the blow to his head really done such damage?

Knowing Adhemar as she did, Anne decided it hadn't. He'd been hurt far worse in battle than what Jocelyn had done. No, something was afoot and she was going to discover what.

Turning her back to Adhemar, she slid her arm chummily through Jocelyn's. "Now, niece, that we can be assured of privacy to talk, why don't we stroll the garden and you can tell me all about the opening tournament. And I do mean all."

A last glance over her shoulder showed Adhemar watching them, a tiny, challenging smile upon his lips.


	15. Chapter 15

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 15  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

* * *

There are those individuals in life who know you so well, that despite any subterfuge you may attempt, they always see through it. Surprisingly, his mother wasn't one of them.

Anne, however, was one of those people, Adhemar decided, watching her as the days went by. She was overly amused by his poetry to Jocelyn, openly sarcastic to his affections for Jocelyn, and always watching him in return. So, it was no surprise when she followed him into the stables two weeks after Katherine had departed in a huff.

She crossed to him with a light step that hardly betrayed her presence. "I'd suggest we ride together alone to speak with relative privacy, but it'd be terribly inappropriate considering our prior relationship though I _am_ your aunt at present."

"Have you some pressing matter that needs my attention," he asked, feigning ignorance, waiting for her to come to whatever her point was to be.

Anne's laugh was like a tinkling, yet harsh chime. "Oh, Adhemar, I'm absolutely astounded at your behavior lately. Speaking poetry?" Crossing her arms, she leaned against the stall, eyes widening. "Being nice to everyone? And I do mean everyone. Really, you must admit you're overdoing it more than a tad."

"Overdoing what?" He continued brushing his favorite horse.

"This act. This latest method of wooing Jocelyn. I mean, even the gentlest of men has a temper. Ask her. Her lost love William yelled at her on occasion and had a fit of temper. He wasn't this meek, agreeable creature you're portraying."

"I still don't see what you're talking about."

Standing straight again, she shook her head. "This isn't you. It never has been. I remember what you were like as a boy, Adhemar. You've always had no use for poetry. You've always disciplined the servants when they're in the wrong. You've never behaved like such a spineless wretch in all your life! So forgive me, please, if I don't believe bad humors left you and this is the real you. You're…" She broke off as servants entered and went about their duties, stepping closer after a moment and continuing on in a whisper. "You're pretending. I understand why. Jocelyn is important to you and to this family. I understand. I even understand getting rid of Katherine. Believe me, nothing has pleased me more than to see her backside riding off into the distance."

"Do you have a point, aunt?" He'd meant to say the words gently, but they came out snippy and hard.

Relief crossed her features. "There, there's the man I know."

"Anne." He lowered his voice as well. "What do you want?"

A shrewd gleam lit her eyes. "To help you."

"Help me?" The idea of her helping him in this floored him. Why would she do such a thing? "Why?"

"Must I have a reason?"

"It would be nice to hear one for once." He crossed his arms, fully expecting her to flounce away in a huff. Instead, she paused, swallowing so hard he heard it clearly.

Anne half turned away. "I'd see you happy. I'd not thought you could be after….Well, if Jocelyn will make you happy, then I'd help you with her."

"It won't erase what you and uncle did."

"I'm well aware of that, believe me."

He considered her proposal for longer than he once would have, then shook his head. "No. If this fails, then I'd have only myself as her target."

Her glance flicked to him and stayed, surprise, then confusion there. "You'd protect me from her anger? How…unselfish of you."

It was his turn to look away. "This is between Jocelyn and myself. No other. If she asks you, play ignorance, disbelief, whatever. Be the role you married into. Aunt."

After a moment, she sighed. "Very well. It's between you two and I shall stay out of it."

Adhemar snorted. As if he'd ever see the day that'd happen! He predicted Anne would still stick her delicate nose into their business whenever she wanted. "I'll believe it when I see it." Setting the brush aside, he motioned for a servant to take over before taking Anne's arm and leading her from the stables. "When do you expect Uncle back?"

She shrugged. "When he returns."

"Which will be when?"

Pulling her arm free, Anne turned to walk towards the pond. "Like he tells me these things, Adhemar. All I know is that he was going to watch you at tournament between conducting business meetings. He'll be back whenever those meetings are completed."

"What was Uncle's business," he probed, but Anne appeared as in the dark as himself, shrugging again in the irritating, unconcerned manner she had.

"Business is his end of our marriage. I care for the children, domestic matters, and of course him. I've never asked unless he first told me his business and when Robert has told me it's been to ask for the advice I can give him. He's not asked for advice lately, so I've not asked what business he has."

Adhemar stared at her. When he spoke again, the words he voiced weren't what he'd intended. "Why did you go with him that morning long ago? Why didn't you scream, for you've always had a loud yell. Did you even try or did you just leave me without protest?"

Anne's gaze fell. "We're all weak in some way, Adhemar, even you. It's our weaknesses that make us human and the strengths we find in our spouse that complete us. Robert completes me and I him, though I can't claim to fully love him in that definition Jocelyn has clung to. My definition of the word is far different than hers. " Her gaze raised to his again, oddly shuttered and cautious. Nowhere in all of her pretty noble-sounding words did she answer one of his questions. "I don't regret this path I ended upon, for without it I'd not have my children and I'd not have known a man I've never had occasion to fear. Even in his anger I've not feared for myself. At least admit to yourself that your anger is toxic to others when it's loosed." She glanced back towards the stables and then up at the manor. "What I do regret is the damage done to you by every choice that was made by all those involved."

All those involved? Adhemar pounced upon those three words. What did she mean by that? He knew of only two involved in Uncle's betrayal: Anne and Robert. Anne made it sound like there was more he didn't know. "You're not telling me something."

"I've not told you many things over the years." She raised a wry brow. "I'd have peace between us if possible."

"There can be no peace until you tell me the truth."

Anne smiled once more, this time sweetly. "Excellent advice, Adhemar, but can you take your own words to heart?" She gestured behind him and he found Jocelyn walking towards them, a grim expression upon her face. "Don't be too nice. It's unbelievable," she offered as parting wisdom, before walking away as though she'd not a care in the world.

Adhemar had the urge to run after her and throttle her, but tamped it down, forcing a gentle grin to his lips as he faced his wife. There was no escaping the fact that while he felt the fool after awhile of portraying this bland romantic male, the particular role enabled him to glimpse a part of Jocelyn he'd never seen.

Her tenderness. He'd come to know just how gentle she could be.

She was a multi-faceted woman, with so many sides to her that Adhemar had decided that he'd never really know the whole of her if he'd a thousand years to pursue the task. Jocelyn was hardly that pawn he'd made her out to be to Thatcher. Rising from her grief, she was strong for having endured. The accepting part that should be there however….

He didn't think she accepted yet. There was a tiny sliver remaining that longed for what never could have been. He refused to let it remain and quickly ramped up his efforts to dazzle her.

* * *

It was difficult to ignore him when he was nice. Jocelyn struggled in that regard. His stare upon her, with warmth and tenderness, was disconcerting. To see both from this man felt so very wrong! She wasn't used to seeing those things. In a perverse way, she decided -- after much contemplation over a month-long period -- she much preferred the cool, calculating, and always manipulative Adhemar to this man with her daily.

He kissed her hands and announced that the touch of her warm skin was what made his heart come alive in his chest. He humbled himself to dance in his clumsy, unmusically inclined way with her when he once would have refused with a sneer -- and said that her nearness alone kept him in a state of ecstasy. Sweeping the backs of his fingers along her cheek, he exclaimed that God had smiled upon him by having her sit beside him. He was the most blessed of men for having her accomplished self with him.

All of that and more, to ad nauseum.

At least, she reflected, he didn't come out and claim to love her. Jocelyn watched him as those days swept into weeks, searching for some sign of the man he'd once been. She wanted a snarl, a sneer, a scoff, a bit of temper displayed. _Something_. Jocelyn became desperate for a trace of the former Adhemar.

But he was restrained, a mere shadow of himself. Honestly, he might have been the former Adhemar's twin -- alike in form, but not in temperament. He was far too restrained and unbalanced. Even Will, she recalled, had a temper and let it loose now and again.

This Adhemar with her today was…. She hated to admit this. She despised admitting that she found this man…boring. He everything she'd once declared she wanted and while she should have been rejoicing, she wasn't. The reason for that made her gut clench.

She'd had Will and his love for that brief period and one man such as he was quite enough for her life. She didn't need a copy of William Thatcher before her constantly reminding her of him.

Jocelyn grimaced. How it hurt to come to this realization! She'd been better off with Adhemar and his sort of passion after Will's love.

Setting aside that book of poetry Adhemar had given her, Jocelyn decided that those bad humors that had plagued him were just going to have to come back. Somehow, she was going to return him to what he'd been.

* * *

Adhemar's Uncle wouldn't leave her alone. He'd followed them to four tournaments now, spending his days waiting outside her work tent. He said nothing to her again, nor did he speak to those coming to her with jobs. All he did was wait and watch. It was maddening. Didn't he have a home to go rebuild? After all, that was what he'd wanted her to work on. There were others just as qualified as she to perform that task. Many more so.

Kate knew very well what he was trying to do. He wasn't the first noble to attempt to cow her into accepting his offer. Others had tried since her husband had died, one even suggesting she become his mistress and work that way. She was made of sterner stuff however, ignoring him as though he wasn't even there. Or trying to, rather. He liked to talk to her in a way she found odd in a noble. He flirted and smiled like a beau half his age trying to woo a reluctant lass.

Still, by the fifth tournament, her temper was frayed a goodly sum by his constant presence and she poked her head from the tent, finding Robert of Anjou sitting on a camp stool to the left of her tent opening. He watched her more than Wat ever did. Not to mention Gavin's habit of watching her. She still saw Gavin on occasion, eyeing her from afar, but never coming close to where she could ream him out for it.

"My lord, you wait in vain. I can do no work for you."

He glanced up at her, rolling a piece of parchment up. "You could if you chose, Kate."

"I don't choose to do so and I won't regardless of the hours you spend outside my tent. My lord is getting jealous," she cried in an attempt to sway him to see things her way.

Robert of Anjou laughed. "You lie, Kate. The lord you travel with isn't your liege and he's hardly jealous. Why, I heard him yesterday remarking to that red-haired man of his how pleased he is to see your business doing well. I'll stay right where I am. I've not harmed your business. I've even recommended you to a few men. I see quality and I refuse to let it slip by me."

"Have you no family, my lord? Do they not miss you?"

"I've seen them," he remarked. "A lone man travels swifter than a group, especially a man unburdened by tools and household items. I visit them between tournaments and return to conduct business."

Stepping fully from her tent, Kate crossed her arms. "How _is_ the gambling this season?"

"Very well. Your lord has rebuilt much of my wealth despite all of the other souls betting with me. I could invest some of your funds for you."

Wat already did that for her and himself. "No thank you, my lord." A generous offer. How quickly would he disappear with those funds if she'd said yes?

Robert's gaze swept the crowd and suddenly, he stood. "I'll be leaving temporarily. Consider my offer."

"I've considered and refused."

"Then I ask again and will send for your answer on the morrow."

"It'll be no, my lord."

"Perhaps."

In moments he was gone and Kate spied Gavin in the crowd watching her. Rolling her eyes, she returned to the tent.

* * *

He watched her when Gavin couldn't, spending his free time guarding Kate. It wasn't what Robert wanted to do, but it was the only thing he could think of at present to aid Gavin. Besides, there was a chance she'd reconsider if she saw him there enough.

He'd not lied to Kate. He _did_ return to Adhemar's to visit his family. He'd even repaid Adhemar back, though his nephew was too caught up in his latest ploy with Jocelyn to notice. Anne had filled him in immediately upon his return as to what was happening, making her opinion well known. She thought Adhemar was going stupid in his quest to have Jocelyn accept him. Privately, Robert thought she was just upset that Adhemar had refused her help in his plan.

Robert predicted sparks were going to fly when Adhemar's deception was found out, but what could they do about it? Adhemar was a stubborn man who had to experience harsh lessons before he learned things. He'd always been that way, the sort who'd stick his hand in the fire to discover for himself it was hot despite everyone telling him that fact. Eventually, Adhemar would learn.

Nor had he lied to Kate about the gambling. Sir William was a good man to bet on. He was consistent in his wins and quite a few men still refused to believe their favorite competitor wouldn't beat him. Now, if only Robert could get Adhemar back to tournament, the money would really come in! Adhemar's supporters were the worst. He'd been champion for so long that many of them insisted the World Games tournament had been rigged to cheat Adhemar from his rightful win.

Entering the inn, he went to his private room and packed up those few belongings he'd brought. Kate's mention of his family had made him homesick. Surely Kate would be fine for a few days. Besides, he'd another business idea and wanted to run it across Jocelyn before implementing it. Jocelyn had the knowledge he needed in the area of his interest.

* * *

The next tournament was in a month. Will was glad they were taking a break. Frankly, he was weary of the games and needed a rest with family and friends. He found he was looking forward to being back home.

Home. It was his home now, too. Christiana had risen to the task of wife and worked tirelessly to bring all elements together. He was grateful for her and for the way his life had turned out. It seemed like just yesterday he was a callow youth with big dreams and here he was, living his dream. Not that it was easy. He'd learned that nothing in life was, even those things of noble life that had seemed such from afar. Nobles paid dearly for ease.

Their herd was increasing, fields looking well, he saw as they rode close. George had been a good man to leave in charge. He smiled. How could anything disrupt their happiness when things were going so well?

Clouds passed across the sun for a brief moment, then fled across the sky and were gone from sight.


	16. Chapter 16

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 16  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.  
Notes: RL has kept me from writing this past week, but I'm back working now.

* * *

Jocelyn spent her days plotting accidents designed to smack Adhemar upon the head and bring those humors back. Most didn't succeed. Indeed, he seemed to have a knack for avoiding each planned accident. The last had sent Germaine to his bed for two days with blurred vision and headaches. Though Jocelyn had tried to explain to him the reason for it as she'd nursed him, Germaine now refused to come close to her without Bess or other servants present.

She fretted and fumed over the subject of those humors, finally deciding she'd just have to take matters into her own two hands. Literally. No more leaving things to chance.

Their bedchamber was filled with wonderful things to use as weapons, from candlesticks to Adhemar's favorite weapons, but in the end she chose the tray on which their wine usually waited. Today, the pitcher was empty. Carefully, she removed the cups and pitcher, took the tray into her hands and waited. It didn't have quite the heft his armor had, but it'd have to do.

Jocelyn lay in wait, listening for his voice in the hallway and when it came, the door opening, she raised the tray, said a quick prayer and smacked him over the head as soon as the door had closed.

Unfortunately, her aim was off, the blow not quite high enough, glancing off his shoulder. Adhemar stumbled against the door, eyes narrowing, hands catching his weight on the panel. He coughed, and for a second, the sound was suspiciously reminiscent of laughter.

"Woman, did you just strike me?"

Eyes widening, she nodded. "Yes." He looked the same, so she raised the tray again for a second whack.

He was too quick. Adhemar grabbed her, twisted her in his arms so that her back was to his chest, the tray dropped to the floor, metal striking stone with a ringing clang. His cheek pressed against hers. She could feel the roughness of the stubble there and his warm breath as he said, "Strike me all you like, goddess, for it feeds --"

"Stop it!" Jocelyn wrenched herself free of him and stomped a foot in frustration, hands raising as though to fend him off. "Just stop it! I'd hear something from you save insipid poetry. A word of anger, _something_. For God's sake Adhemar, I hit you with a tray! Does that not raise some temper in you? Your wife, a mere woman, hit you! Please! You're _Adhemar_. Women don't hit you. Women and most men aren't supposed to even dare try!"

He took one slow step towards her. "What are you telling me?"

Her frustration made her sob. "I don't want another William Thatcher. I don't want constant even temper and poetry." Dimly, she was aware that he'd gone very still, the look in his eyes inscrutable.

"Then what _do_ you want?" His voice held the slightest hint of a caress to it and a touch of emotion backing it.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose, making her shiver a little. He hadn't moved or changed expression, yet Jocelyn had the sensation that he'd suddenly become the predator and she the prey. Later, she would try to claim to herself that weariness made her give voice to her newest, deepest want, but for now it was simply there, splayed out between them.

She shrugged. "I want the man I married before I whacked him with a piece of armor at tournament."

"I thought you'd never ask."

She had enough time to register his cocky grin and whispered words before she was in his arms, his lips upon hers. It was not that Jocelyn had never been attracted to him, for she was. It was only that she'd always been far more attracted to Will. Until now.

Getting what she wanted in the end was always heady, even if it was something she'd not thought she wanted in the beginning. Desire slid through her in a hot rush, her heartbeat quickening. One passionate interlude led to another and so on until, entwined upon their bed, they fell into an exhausted slumber.

Jocelyn woke hours later, cold, hungry, and thirsty. Taking up Adhemar's fur-lined robe, she slipped it on before ordering refreshment from a passing servant. The garment was warm, smelling of him, a not unpleasant scent. Wrapping it close about her, she returned to the bed. As she waited for her food and drink, she watched Adhemar sleep and thought about him and their life here. There'd never been a moment when Adhemar had changed, had there? His words and manner hours earlier made horrid sense now. Another attempt to manipulate her.

Lord, she was weary of this fighting between them! Would it never end? Were they doomed to spend the rest of their lives plotting against each other with never peace between them?

She touched her stomach. Could she forgive him this deception and let the cycle between them end? Did she want to?

Jocelyn pondered all of this as she waited for him to wake.

* * *

Jocelyn was awake when he woke, wrapped in his robe, her hair still loose down her back. Adhemar was pleased by this turn. She'd always shunned any clothing or even blanket he tried to give her. To see her wrapped in his robe was heartening. Pushing to a sitting position, he watched her sip from a cup, then nibble on a slice of bread. She sighed, the robe slipping down, revealing one bare shoulder.

Adhemar moved to her, careful not to jostle the bed too much and cause the liquid in the cup to spill. Dropping a kiss onto her shoulder, he took the cup, intending to drink. It held milk. He grimaced. Why on earth was she drinking milk? It was vile stuff and he'd never seen her drink it before. Still, he was thirsty. With a shrug of his brows, Adhemar took a gulp and handed it back to her, swallowing as quickly as he could.

Jocelyn was silent.

Moving even closer, he stroked a hand along her arm and peered at her averted face. A pensive expression awaited there. "Good morning, my love."

Her reply was slow in coming. "I've been the most foolish of women."

"Somehow I doubt that. I know many women far more given to folly than you. Anne comes to mind."

"No, I have been," she insisted. "My folly is so astounding as to be ridiculous. I wonder that no one has laughed at it."

"How are you foolish," he inquired, reclining to look up at her face while they talked. Thatcher had been right in that Jocelyn could be a very entertaining, engaging conversationalist when it pleased her. As a whole, he was finding her far more than he'd initially perceived, and beautifully so.

Her gaze flicked to him. "My foolishness…is that I actually thought you'd been changed by that blow from the armor."

He didn't move, silently acknowledging the truth of the matter. No, he'd not changed the way she'd thought. "Men do change."

"How so have you been changed, Adhemar?" Stretching her arm out, she placed cup and bread on the small table placed by her side. "You manipulated me, let me believe I'd helped you. You pretended to be what you were not."

He didn't bother refuting that entirely true charge. "And how is that different from what your gallant Sir William did? He too pretended to be what he was not and on a much grander scale. He too manipulated you. _All_ of us, for that matter."

"It _is_ different," she insisted, getting to her knees to rise up over him.

"How? I merely tried to make you happy by being what you claimed to want. If I've heard correctly, he did that as well. Do you blame me for trying?"

"Yes! I blame you!" Angry color darkened her cheeks, fire blazing in those eyes.

At long last, he thought. She lives fully.

"Why?" He watched her, waited for the answer that didn't come. "Why," he repeated. "Why blame me? I want you happy. A happy wife means that my household prospers. I've done everything I can do within the rigid confines of your definition of love to make you so."

"What really have you done, Adhemar," she spat, "besides constantly deceive me in one way or another?"

"I've denied who I am, wallowing in a castrated state where my own family thinks I'm going mad. I've jumped as high as you've ever asked me, crawled on my belly before you. I've spouted meaningless drivel that has nothing to do with our reality. I've tried to give you whatever I could, but I can't give you back Sir William. Our beds, yours and mine, his and Christiana's, have been well made. Go look in his eyes and see what love is left there for you now. You're his past and he knows it and has moved on to his present and future with his _wife_." He took a breath, his next words bit out through clenched teeth. "Why can't you?"

Flinching, she sank back down onto her heels, the anger slowly leaving her features. The truth of his words was reflected in her eyes. She knew Thatcher had moved on, knew there was no going back.

"Why can't you accept _me_? How am I lacking for you now? You admitted only hours ago that you wanted me as I truly am, yet you rage at my deception which clearly showed you which me you preferred of the two. Perhaps I'm touched in the head after all, for I thought you'd warmed to me." Adhemar sighed. "This here is your life. Yes, it hurts to lose that first real passionate love. Even I've been there. But it's not an unrecoverable blow. Hearts mend eventually and time dulls what had seemed the shiniest, brightest glow of passion." Getting up from the bed, he reached for his clothes.

Jocelyn smoothed the blanket with one hand.

"You've two choices as I see it. Either decide to live with me, accepting all that we are together or…decide to remain in the past, regretting what never could have been." Half dressed, he paused. "You let yourself experience what we could have together if you'd let go of your girlish ideals. Can you truly claim to me that life is not now more pleasing to contemplate than a dead and withered past long behind you?"

She'd become very pale and he pressed on for the last bit.

"Enough. I'm done coddling you and trying to please you. That task isn't one for a mortal man. We will all fall short on your eyes, even your precious William in the end. Make your decision, Jocelyn. I want an answer by twilight. If it's the latter, then so be it. You'll give me heirs and I'll have nothing to do with you otherwise. But if it's the former…."

He left her contemplating his words.

* * *

Jocelyn spent the day closeted in their chambers and when it was time to give him her answer, she dressed with care in a dress a bit brighter than what she'd been wearing of late and with the added touch of a bit of jewelry. Bess did her hair up in an elaborate style and Jocelyn was pleased with her appearance. She rather thought Adhemar would be as well.

All the way to the great hall, she imagined the servants watching her, their eyes searching for some clue as to what was going to happen. Jocelyn ignored them all, searching, and finding Adhemar in the hall. He was waiting at the table, watching for her approach, and so she did with a measured regal tread, as though she was a queen coming in to the meal. In his eyes was a hint of pain, as though he anticipated more battles between them and wasn't looking forward to them. Strange to think of Adhemar not spoiling for a fight, yet many times he really wasn't. Like now.

A man couldn't be in constant anger, though sometimes it can seem like it. Even Adhemar was more than anger, jealousy, and petty hatreds. He, like most men, enjoyed laughter, good food, and the company of others. He wanted more in a wife than a pretty, silent piece on his mantel. Perhaps he'd once convinced himself he wanted that sort of woman.

She went around the table and took the chair beside his, the one she was supposed to sit in for meals. She'd thought about how best to state her stance and felt she'd found the best possible wording. After settling her skirts to her satisfaction and placing her hands in her lap, she looked at him, meeting his gaze without flinching.

"I concede the battle, Adhemar. Don't make me say it again." Odd, too, how she felt freed and much lighter in spirit without the anticipation of this old argument rising between them. She saw him, not as the man who'd stolen her from her one, true love, but rather as the man who'd caught her when she'd fallen low in grief and fought the past to give them a future together. He was by no stretch of the imagination a noble hero, yet for a moment, Jocelyn could see something of that sort of man in him. She saw the man Anne said he'd once been before time and trials had shaped him in another way.

His shoulders lowered, tension draining from his face. "And?"

"The past is gone, as you said. There's only the future."

"What made you make this decision?"

Jocelyn watched the platters of food being brought into the hall. Would he even understand all of the trails of her thoughts over the long hours of the day? Would he understand how she'd forced herself to put those last pieces of herself into place, fully discarding the past? "Must there be a reason aside from your argument of earlier?"

Adhemar leaned close. "Tell me."

While she'd not wanted to tell him tonight, not while he was angry with her -- this news was best left for a lighter moment -- Jocelyn turned her head, face close to his. Would he understand? "I'm pregnant." Closing her eyes for a few seconds, she pressed a kiss to his lips, in effect sealing her promise to him of the future, then sat straight to smile at the servants setting the trays onto the table in front of them.

He cleared his throat. "If you jest…." he began, hand clasping hers on her lap.

"It'd be intentionally cruel to jest on such a thing and I'm hardly intentionally so. I like children, Adhemar. Perhaps we can have several. Boys for you, a girl or two for me. Whatever God grants."

Their meal was spent in companionable silence and when it was done, he left his men in the hall to entertain themselves and joined her to retire early.

* * *

Several things interrupted their homecoming, all matters lords routinely attend to.

A friend offered them first look at a parcel of land that he needed to sell that was a little over an hour north of them. Christiana urged Will to accept the offer and he was glad they'd begun making friends at tournament and away from it. It was these kind of offers that would, in the end, build their wealth if handled the right way. Will was finding that with a little guidance here and there, he'd a talent for some areas of business.

Their number of sheep had increased, or so it seemed to his eyes. His counting got a little sketchy upwards of twenty and George gave a nervous whistle whenever he tried to broach the subject, so he decided to let that matter rest awhile before digging into it.

A cloth merchant came calling with his wares. Will ended up issuing an invitation to return after the tournament season was over, for Christiana's urge to buy had dried up as soon as they had funds to spend. She was unable to make up her mind on anything, frustrating all. Women were odd creatures at times. Will couldn't understand her attitude and when he asked, neither Wat or Mark could make heads or tails of it either, while Kate sat and laughed but wouldn't explain.

Will also had his first real experience with hearing the ills and disputes of the peasants living on his lands. Christiana helped when she could, but her time was taken up by visiting the peasant houses. She took Agnes and Poul with her, giving food and tending sickness where she'd the medicinal skill to do so. Nevertheless, two adults died and one child was born dead.

What marked the days most, was the arrival of their nearest neighbor -- Sir Walter -- dressed in armor and ready for battle with several of his men accompanying him. Riding into the courtyard, he announced to the few outside that Will had stolen his sheep.

"I knew it," Will muttered, still in the hall, turning to George with arms wide open. "Explain."

George scuffed the toe of his shoe on the floor. "He stole our sheep first. Can I help it if a few of his followed when I retrieved ours?"

Sighing, Will left the hall to speak with Sir Walter. Just what he needed, a war with his neighbor. How on earth could he diffuse this?

"What say you to the charge," Walter asked, swinging down from his mount and striding forward to meet him with the strutting walk of a rooster. He was bravado and bluster and while not tall, his manner aided in giving him the appearance of greater height.

Will rested his hands on his hips. "I say I've no knowledge of thievery." George had likely stolen the sheep, but…there was a chance the sheep had followed. A slight chance. Miniscule.

"I'm missing five sheep and your herd appears to have gained five." Walter pointed a finger at him, jabbing it forward several times as he spoke.

"I was told that several of ours went missing while I was at tournament, but were recovered. Are yours branded in some way? We could check for your brand…"

Walter scowled, shaking his head in a negative. "They'd not been branded yet," he admitted in a gruff voice.

Raising his brows, Will nodded, "Ahh. Convenient excuse. I mean, why should I believe you? You could be trying to steal some of my sheep by claiming they're yours when in fact, they're really mine. I say _you're_ trying to steal from _me_."

Walter stared at him a moment, then laughed, features slipping into an easy grin that entirely changed his demeanor. Now, he resembled nothing more than jovial friend. "Well, well. You're sharp. Tell you what, William. I hear you're looking for a maid for your wife."

Will gave a cautious nod. "We are. Have you a suggestion?"

"Possibly. My mother recently died, leaving her maid in my household. I promised to find a place for her, but my wife already has one maid and certainly doesn't need another."

"How recent is recent?"

"This morning. I make it a rule not to house servants I don't need any longer than necessary. Cuts down on leaking funds."

He stared at Walter, blinked twice and crossed his arms. "What is it you want?" He wouldn't be proposing the maid without something in mind. Most likely the sheep.

Walter took a deep breath. "A sack of grain if you can spare it, a chicken and two of those sheep." His eyes twinkled. "Perhaps I was mistaken in the number."

Glancing towards the house, he motioned to George and Mark. After explaining what Walter had in mind for a deal, he waited for the two to confer. After long minutes of snorting, muttering, whispering and groaning, Mark announced that the terms were quite acceptable if the maid was worth it. Walter would need to bring the woman for Will to look over.

By late afternoon, the transaction was completed and Will could cross a maid off his list of things he needed to take care of. He spent the evening with Mark, planning for the day trip north to review the property that had been proposed to them. It was decided that in four days, they'd make that journey. Will and Christiana would be joined by Wat and Mark and upon their return, they'd begin packing for the journey to the next tournament.

* * *

Robert returned to Adhemar's household to the sight of a celebration in progress. He saw jugglers, troubadours, dancers, and all sorts of things as he rode into the courtyard. Lively music came from the hall and he followed his ears into the room. At the opposite end, Jocelyn and Adhemar were sitting in their chairs laughing together at the man performing before them. Robert searched and found Anne on the stairs. She was sitting where she could watch everything. He slipped up to her.

"What's going on," he asked, joining her and putting his arm around her.

Leaning close, she kissed him. "We're celebrating."

"Whyever are we doing that?"

"Because Jocelyn is pregnant."

He laughed. "Seriously?" At her nod, he grinned. It was about time. Many a bride was pregnant long before now and for it to have happened meant that there was more to Adhemar and Jocelyn's interactions than had been witnessed in the public venue. "Well, I'm pleased for them. Jocelyn will be a wonderful mother if her interactions with our brood are any indication."

"You've missed quite a bit while you were gone this time."

"Tell me later." They enjoyed the merriment below, but gradually, Robert's thoughts turned to business and he decided to speak with Jocelyn sometime in the next day. If he could have the benefit of her expertise, he'd be greatly pleased and could begin growing his wealth even further.


	17. Chapter 17

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 17  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

* * *

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the air a heavenly mix of earthy scents…and that new maid was ogling her husband. Christiana scowled in Margaret's direction, trying to resist the urge to slap her. Three days with Margaret and she wanted to smack sense into her! When she'd been a maid, she'd abhorred seeing ladies slap, pinch, and otherwise physically abuse their maids, but this girl was trying her patience. While there was no denying Margaret knew her work duties well, she was the most feather-headed, silliest of creatures. A slap might do her a tremendous amount of good. Margaret had told her that her former lady had treated her very well, like a daughter more than a maid, and indulged her. All code for: let her run wild as she pleased with little thought to decorum.

A dog would have been a better choice for a pet than the maid. That's what it boiled down to really. Margaret's former lady had wanted a pet and used her maid as such instead of just getting a dog.

She sighed a little, glancing back down at her lacework and untangling her threads. Some would claim Jocelyn had treated her too well, but she was nothing like this girl before her. Despite all the favor she'd held, she'd still remembered her place and station. Margaret didn't. She wanted…. Everything. Margaret wanted to be lady. She wanted to have the clothes and fripperies when it wasn't her place to dress so fine as Christiana was now able.

Christiana would admit to liking clothes and all of the accessories that went with them. Why wouldn't she? Jocelyn had adored those things and had wanted her maid to as well. She'd learned to like them and take enjoyment in a fine piece of cloth or intricate embroidery. Margaret took it to the extreme, however, urging Christiana to take them into town to see the merchants. 'A little ribbon, or embroidery threads, or some pretty cloth…' she'd plead. When Christiana refused, Margaret went to Will and requested the trip of him, claiming Christiana was too embarrassed to ask since the merchant had been sent away by the time she'd decided she wanted something.

If that wasn't enough to get her blood boiling, that girl flirted and tugged her bodice lower and all manner of things to try and gain Will's attention. To Will's credit, he appeared oblivious to the flirting, barely looking at Margaret and being as attentive to Christiana as he'd always been since their marriage.

Shoving her lacework aside, Christiana cleared her throat. "Margaret." It took two more calls before she looked away from where Will and Wat were sparring. For a split second, a sulky pout turned her lips and Christiana sat up a bit straighter. This had to be the reason Sir Walter had gotten rid of her. Or rather his wife had gotten rid of her? It was looking more and more likely.

Coming to her, Margaret clasped her hands together and bowed her head. "Yes, my…lady." There was just enough of a pause as to be skirting the edge of disrespect.

She wondered if Jocelyn would like to train a maid in manners, then dismissed the idea as being mean towards Jocelyn. Unless she fully disclosed why. "Have you completed your mending?"

Margaret's eyes shifted slightly to one side. "I'm working on it."

"It hardly seems so to me when your rear is not in your seat, your hands idle, and eyes upon my husband." She arched a brow.

"I watch because he's a magnificent…fighter."

Again a pause, this one openly insolent. Christiana stood, smiling sweetly. "Do you know what the punishment for insolence is in this household?" She should, as Will had laid it out plain to all as they'd come in to work for them. He'd hated to decide on a list of punishments, but had admitted it was necessary for some. Between them, and with Mark's advice, they'd come up with a list that was far more lenient in Christiana's mind than it should be. She had no patience for servants who didn't do their jobs or displayed open rebellion, such as insolence.

Margaret's haughty, challenging expression faltered. "I do."

"Do you wish to have stripes upon your back? I can arrange that quite easily. I can arrange more stripes with merely a word." She never once stopped smiling. "I _will_ arrange it if you do not keep your place. If you persist, I'll sell you as Sir Walter did and I do believe you'll discover just how good you had it in this household if that happens."

"I mean no offense, my lady Christiana." She appeared all of her young age right then, a girl frightened of the punishment she imagined.

"Then keep your eyes to men that have no wife and remember that God puts you where you are for a reason."

"Yes."

Christiana motioned to the seat that had been set out for Margaret. "Mind your work. Turn your back to the men and sew." She paced a bit while Margaret settled herself as directed. "While Will and I are gone tomorrow, I expect you to finish the mending in your basket." Not a light task, but one that should keep her occupied most of the day. Tournament and planting season had brought them many items to mend. There were also projects to work on for the coming winter. "When it's completed, work on the bedcovers. You may work outside if the weather is fine and if you finish, go to George for further instructions. I'll be leaving a list of tasks with him for you."

There were no protests and Christiana decided that, in time, they'd get along just fine. The key with Margaret was going to be a steady hand of discipline. Pleased with how she'd handled the situation, Christiana sat back down and returned to her lace.

* * *

"Must you go?" Jocelyn hated to see Adhemar go when they'd begun to make such progress in their relationship. He was insistent, however, that he had to take care of this business himself.

"It's time to review the property myself. I'll be back within the week. It's not far. It's not as though I go off to Italy." Clasping her hands in his, he raised them, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "There are no pressing matters for you to make decisions on unless an accident occurs, so all you need to do is rest. Keep our child well protected."

He was enthusiastic about their baby, that anticipation softening him a bit more. He'd taken to pressing a hand to her belly whenever he was near her, as though he could keep harm from the child by that gesture. She'd been surprised to learn that he'd no illegitimate children that he was aware of in the world. Jocelyn had always assumed he'd have several floating around in the various countries he'd fought in.

"If I can, I will." Not exactly a promise to be still as he wanted. His eyes narrowed and before he could comment, she pulled one hand from his grasp, motioning towards the men waiting behind him. "Now go, before you lose more daylight."

"There's plenty of daylight as you well know, but I'll leave. Business must be taken care of."

When he was gone, she took her daily walk about the manor, speaking with servants and appraising the quality of their work. She enjoyed the task, Bess as her side. They were just settling down to decide on trim for a new dress, when Robert approached and asked her to walk with him a moment. Jocelyn didn't see any reason not to. He'd been back for three days, today being the fourth, and had spent most of his time with Anne in their chamber. She agreed with a smile.

"So," she asked as they exited the manor and walked across the courtyard. "What were you wishing to speak on?"

Robert shrugged, glancing about the courtyard, his smile warm and inviting. "Would you like to go riding with me? I know you like to ride and it's a crime not to do so on a beautiful day such as this."

She looked back at Bess. "Bess doesn't care for it."

"Bess can stay here. Come. We'll ride about the edges of the property and I'll tell you all about the opportunity I discovered."

"Opportunity?" For months now, he'd been searching for ways to add to his wealth and leave Adhemar's house. Had he found one at last that would aid him well? It appeared so. "Have you mentioned it to Anne?"

"No. I'd like your input."

"You should ask for hers first."

"Anne wouldn't have any knowledge to work from."

Jocelyn thought about the offer. Why not? It didn't sound like he'd a long ride in mind, just a quick jaunt about the grounds, nothing that'd need a full escort. "I can't be gone long. Bess and I promised Sophie a game of hide and seek later this afternoon."

"We'll be back long before that time." He held out his hand.

Laughing, Jocelyn took it. "Very well, Uncle. Let us ride the grounds and discuss business opportunities." Bess retrieved Jocelyn's coat and cap, but remained at the manor. She wanted to tidy Jocelyn's clothing trunk and would have a fresh outfit ready upon their return, along with refreshment.

* * *

Will's party set out in early afternoon along the north road, Mark directing them, and soon had left the main, well-traveled road for one with a thick forest on either side. The shade was a welcome respite from the growing heat of the day. Will was deep in conversation with Christiana when Mark made an abrupt halt ahead of them.

"My lord! There's a man in the road!"

Christiana drew up on the reigns, halting her mount and Will motioned to Wat. "Stay here with her." The guard her with your life part of the order was implied.

Mark had dismounted and approached the man by the time Will had reached them. There were no obvious signs of deception, the man splayed out upon the right wheel track, one arm at an odd angle, his features bloody. Mark touched fingers to the man's throat, raising his eyes to meet Will's.

"Pulse is thin, but he lives."

Will crouched down, taking in the fine quality of the man's clothes. "Thieves?"

"I'm thinking yes." Mark stood, walked to the edge of the road and then back the other side. "Looks like there may have been some trouble here. Hard to tell though. Ground is so dry." He was silent a moment. "Wait a moment…" Stepping from the road, he moved into the foliage, returning almost immediately with something white in his hands. "A woman's cap." He held it out for inspection.

"Will?" Christiana called from behind him.

He waved a hand at her, concentrating on the injured man. "Can we move him?"

"I'm no physician, but he ought not remain in the middle of the road I think."

He nodded, taking the cap and glancing at it. "I agree. Find some branches. We'll make a stretcher for him and find a place to make camp." Striding back, he informed Christiana and Wat of what he thought had occurred. "Thieves most likely set upon the man and the woman he was with." He handed the cap up to Christiana. "This was on the side of the road."

Christiana took the fabric, held it, studied it, and swallowed hard, paling a fraction. "Who's the man," she asked, turning her gaze towards the injured man.

"I don't know."

"Is it Adhemar?" Her voice held a hint of urgency to it.

"No." Will stared hard at her. A strange question to ask. "Why would you ask that?"

Her tongue flicked out, licking her lips, hands turning the cap inside out and right side out over and over again. "No reason. I believe he has lands close to here."

Will reached up, stilling her hands with one of his. "Christiana, what do you know?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. It's just…well…there must be a million women with this same cap in the same fabric…but Jocelyn had a cap just like this. It matched her coat -- white, with pretty red at the bottom."

Suddenly, he remembered that coat and cap. She'd been wearing them that day he'd first seen her. The man wasn't Adhemar, the graying at his temples proving it. Adhemar had no gray hair. "It's not Adhemar," he told her. "He's too old to be Adhemar and too finely dressed to be a servant. He's a noble, but not one I'm directly familiar with."

She relaxed. "Then I worry for nothing."

"We'll sort it out. Trust me."

They made camp in the first clearing they came upon, which ended up being several miles from where they'd found the man. The road they were on wasn't a largely traveled one, as they passed no one the entire way and weeds choked the trail. Will sent Wat heading back home for supplies. They didn't dare move the man too far.

As Christiana worked her tiny amount of skill at doctoring, the man roused slightly, grimacing with pain, thrashing about. He opened his mouth and cried out quite plainly, "Jocelyn!"

* * *

Of all the indignities Jocelyn had been subjected to, being gagged felt the worst, for she couldn't voice her opinion on what these odious men were doing. She and Robert had been getting deep into a discussion on his business idea when the men had struck, not allowing them to turn away. They were surrounded, herded miles from Adhemar's property and onto a tiny isolated road that was overgrown with weeds. From there, she'd been forced to watch while the men beat Robert, cringing and nearly throwing up her last meal when she heard something in his arm snap. He'd made a valiant effort to fight them off, but in the end, there were too many of them.

She'd expected to be raped and abused, steeling herself for that eventuality. They'd bound her, gagged her, and thrown her over the back of a horse like baggage and ridden away from the scene. Somewhere along the way she'd lost her cap and the new white coat with Adhemar's crest embroidered on it was getting dusty and dirty. Her last look back had shown Robert very still in the road, left where he'd fallen. She wondered if he'd been killed and were these men going to do the same to her?

They took her to a crumbling manor in desperate need of repair. It showed the neglect of an owner who'd not the funds to care for his property. Weeds mingled with the crops in the fields, more weeds than crop. The fences were tilting towards the ground, the stones of the buildings giving way. She could smell decay and mold as they shoved her into a dark, dank hall. The tapestries on the walls were torn and Jocelyn sneezed from the dust that their passage across the floor had raised. To the right out of her sight, she heard two male voices arguing.

"Are you insane?"

"My _lord_, Gavin. Don't forget to call me that." The voice was smug.

"You've completely lost your mind. How could you dare to kill him of all people? And take her as well? Don't you understand that his family will come down on us all with the sort of wrath Edward shows? Count Adhemar, Henry? Where is the sense in that?"

"You'll do the task I've set for you."

"No. I'm done. Give me my daughter."

"Bring me the woman and you'll have your child."

She heard a woman cry out in terror and fixed her gaze upon the doorway. Her heartbeat quickened even further, until it felt as though it would burst from her chest. Something horrible was going to happen. She could feel it in the air, taste the terror upon her tongue.

"I won't."

She heard the sound of steel, a gurgled protest and then a body came through the doorway. It was a young woman, hardly more than a girl, dressed in servant's clothes. Her throat was slit, blood flowing onto the stones. Sightless eyes were turned towards the ceiling.

"I make no idle threats, Gavin. Surely you've learned that these years? Bring me the woman or your daughter is next."

One man came through the doorway, carefully slipping by the dead woman. He was blond and though the set of his features was familiar, Jocelyn couldn't place him. He stared at her, shaking his head, and with a helpless shrug, he said, "I'm sorry." As he passed her, she noticed tears upon his cheeks.

Another man came through the doorway. This one she recognized only because he'd been pointed out to her as someone to avoid. Henry of Burgundy.

"Hello Jocelyn." His toothy smile was more like a snarl than a friendly expression. "Let's become acquainted before your love comes riding to the rescue."

She swallowed hard and couldn't quite keep from glancing back towards the dead young woman on the floor. Jocelyn prayed Adhemar would find her quickly.

* * *

Usually, Adhemar enjoyed business, but this time he was bored to tears. Everything was in order and he hated spending time away when he could be enjoying far more pleasurable pursuits at home. Jocelyn's pregnancy pleased him to no end. He imagined her bearing a handsome boy, a son that would be strong and a champion like himself. He supposed he'd accept a girl, though he'd rather have a boy. However, a girl could be profitable when she was of age. Mentally, he made a list of acquaintances he'd be able to align the family with in that case.

It was with great enthusiasm that he guided his party towards home when their business was completed. He'd been gone three days and was impatient to return. They found the hall unusually silent and empty of all but Anne. The air had a peculiar flat, stale taste, as though the cleaning had been neglected for those days he'd been gone. Anne waited by the fire, hands twisting together, and face a mask of anxiety.

"Anne." He approached her. "Where's Jocelyn?" When Anne didn't answer, he crossed his arms. "Where's Uncle?" Still no answer and he sighed impatiently. "Have you a tongue in your head? What's happened? Where is everyone?"

She turned, stepping away, putting the long table between them, a move that wasn't lost on him as she finally began to speak. "They went out riding and haven't returned."

Adhemar narrowed his eyes. "How long ago and with how many men?"

Anne flinched and appeared to shrink inside herself, putting more of the table length between them. "They left three days ago with no men."

No men. Adhemar blinked. Why would Jocelyn and Uncle go riding with no men? He stared at Anne, at her trembling lips and fear-ridden eyes, and was sent most rudely backwards in time to another day and another woman with Uncle. Jocelyn had gone with Uncle just like Anne had. Rage began to rise inside him. He could feel the rush of it pushing through his veins. "You of all people let that happen!"

Anne raised her hands, still backing from his reach. Her head shook left and right. "I've no control over Robert's actions, you know that. Nor have I any over Jocelyn."

"What were his intentions," he bit out through clenched teeth.

"I don't know."

"Anne," he roared, leaning over and pounding the table.

"I don't know," she screamed back. "You have to believe me, Adhemar. All he told me was that there was a small matter he wanted to discuss with her. He swore they'd not be gone long."

"And you believed him? You, who let yourself be abducted. You, who fell to his glib tongue. What small matter were they discussing? The child? Is it even mine or do they betray both of us?"

The fear drained from Anne's face, anger filling it's place. "How dare you! Jocelyn would never do such a thing to you or any man. Nor would Robert hurt me that way."

Adhemar snorted. "Hah! He excels at betrayal!"

"Oh does he?" She placed her hands on the table and leaned over, putting her face close to his. "That betrayal you attribute to him was _mine_ to begin with." Her voice was rushed and low, eyes wide, bright spots of flush coloring her cheeks and giving her a feverish appearance. "It was I who betrayed you, Adhemar. I stole into his chamber that night thinking it was you. I'd had so much wine I could barely think straight and he'd had far more than I." One hand raised, skimming his features. "Even then he looked like you. The hair, the eyes, his build. I thought I'd gone to you and it wouldn't have been wrong, because the next day would have seen us wed, but when I woke, Katherine was there and I saw I'd gotten it all wrong. We fled on Katherine's advice and I've regretted not telling you every day since then."

Her words rang in his mind, at first making no sense at all, but then springing into sharp clarity. He recalled that night, the lateness of the hour and the merriment that descends after much drink. Anne had giggled as they drank, her long hair loose down her back and her voice husky as she admitted she could hardly wait for morning so they could finally be wed. She'd neatly avoided being fully alone with him just as a good girl was supposed to do, even though he'd been trying to seduce her for weeks.

She'd gone up to her chamber then and he and Robert had enjoyed a few more drinks before treading up those stairs themselves. Adhemar had seen his Uncle into the guest chamber and gone towards his own, as excited to wed Anne and finally have her as she'd professed for him. For a brief moment, he'd paused at her door, hand reaching out to open it, but he'd restrained himself with a chanted whisper of 'just a few more hours'.

His restraint had no reward at the end, for come morning, Anne was gone and so was Robert.

How different their lives would be now if he'd opened that door! His young cousins wouldn't exist unless Robert had married another woman. All of that affair with William Thatcher would not have happened and…he and Anne likely would have killed each other sometime over the years. They were honestly quite unsuited for each other.

Uncle Robert did not betray me.

That thought was immediately followed by this one: Jocelyn is in danger. My wife, mother of my heir, is in danger.

"So you see, he's more honorable than you think. He made right what had been wrong and willingly accepted that rift between us and you." Slowly, she stood back. "Your wife and my husband are missing. I've sent what men were here out looking and while they found evidence of a struggle, there's been no sign of Jocelyn or Robert."

Adhemar's breaths came very shallow and he didn't think he could manage to draw in enough air. The anger that had blazed hot was simmering. "The baby --"

"Is yours. How can you possibly doubt that?"

"There was a struggle?"

"Yes."

Slowly, he stepped back. "Send the men to me, the ones that first went out to look for them."

Anne leaned forward again, gaze going hard and cold. "If Robert is dead, I want you to kill the man responsible."

He nodded once. If Jocelyn was harmed, he'd torture the man before killing him and take great pleasure in it. Adhemar turned on his heel and went out into the courtyard to wait.


	18. Chapter 18

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 18  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

* * *

Gavin drove his horse fast across the field. This was the end of it all and, God willing, of Henry. The man was a lunatic, there was no other explanation for his behavior. To kill Adhemar and kidnap his wife was madness itself. Adhemar's family had a certain reputation among the nobility, the sort where few crossed them. Gavin should know. His sister had married into that family. Granted, Robert was a good man, but he was still one of them. What would Robert do to avenge his nephew and by extension Jocelyn? Gavin had no desire to be in his way.

Though his thoughts churned, he still had the presence of mind to register the men following him. There were only three he quickly discovered and decided it was worth taking the time to route them. He didn't need Henry getting wind of what he planned to do before he was ready.

First, he'd save Mary and Jocelyn and then, he'd save Kate before Henry even knew what was happening.

* * *

The pains Robert felt upon waking were the sort he'd not felt in years. Through God's grace and luck, he'd not been seriously injured since he was Adhemar's age, but now…he was in a world of hurt. Every muscle in his body felt strained, his head pounding. Proof he was alive, he decided, wondering also if it was of value to attempt opening his eyes.

From his right, he heard a woman humming softly as she stroked a cool cloth along his brow. In English that had a light French accent, she said, "Will, he's waking again."

Again? He didn't remember waking earlier. He must have woken if she said it. Robert forced his eyes open and might have laughed if the effort to do so hadn't been so gargantuan. The woman was pretty, with dark hair and dark eyes -- Jocelyn's former maid. Robert didn't remember her name. He did, however, remember she'd married William Thatcher, Jocelyn's former love and Adhemar's rival. The man standing behind her. The quirks of fate were often amusing.

"A name, sir," Will said in a kind tone that was rather unlike the one most men would use. It was a question, not a demand. "Tell us who you are and, if you're up to it, what occurred here."

Could they not see who he was? Robert opened his mouth to ask, then thought on that beating those men had given him. Were his features so bruised and swollen they'd no recognition? "Robert of Anjou," he supplied, voice thick and strained. "Nephew is Adhemar."

"Count Adhemar?" Will's brows rose and he exchanged a glance with his wife. When he looked back, Robert saw an urgency in his eyes. "Jocelyn _was_ with you then? It was her cap on the ground."

"Yes, she was with me." Pausing occasionally for breath, he told them what had happened, making sure he mentioned Henry of Burgundy's crest on the men's coats. It was important they know who was responsible for the attack so justice could be done. They listened in silence and when he was done, they stepped off to one side. He was just able to hear their conversation and closed his eyes, feigning fatigue from speaking. In truth, he wanted to concentrate on their words without them realizing it. Not that he wasn't bone weary already from the effort of speaking. He was, but was far more interested in their conversation than resting.

"We have to take him to Adhemar's."

"Will, we have to go after Jocelyn!"

"No. We go to Adhemar. We're four men, Christiana, one of them injured who can't fight, and one woman not trained to fight. How far would we get into Henry's house even if he _has_ tried to convince us he's a friend? No, we need Adhemar and his army or at least a garrison. Adhemar has the men to force Henry to release Jocelyn."

Unspoken was the truth that Adhemar also had the stomach for the harshness of battle. However, Robert detected both hardness and decisiveness in the young man's voice, a recognition of their limits, and the authority of a man growing into his title. Most women wouldn't argue, but Robert wasn't surprised when Christiana was just like Jocelyn, arguing what she thought right. She'd be very like her former mistress wouldn't she, since they'd grown up together?

They argued for long minutes, drawing their two men into it as well. Robert opened his eyes again and watched them. Christiana was upset, her arms crossed and eyes flashing her emotions. How much like Anne she was then!

In the end, Christiana was overruled and ordered to get Robert ready for travel. She accepted the decision with far more grace than he'd ever observed from Anne in such instances. Anne always took a little time to sulk before becoming sweetness and light once more. He greatly hoped to live to see her and their children again. It certainly didn't feel like he would, but then all incapacitations as he'd experienced left that impression. No man who'd taken a hearty beating thought he was going to live to see the next day. Inevitably, he did live.

"As it is, we'll need to travel slowly to have a care for his injuries." She was thoughtful of his pains, stroking his brow again with a gentle hand and that cool cloth. He was grateful for that cloth. "We don't want to add to the damage already done."

Robert reached up, taking Christiana's hand in his and lifting it from his brow. As pleased as he was that they gave him care and planned to continue doing so, their objective was Jocelyn. He was simply Adhemar's useless Uncle, while Jocelyn carried the heir in her belly. "Leave me. Ride for Adhemar and leave me here. You should find Jocelyn as quickly as possible, before that rogue has a chance to harm her. She's pregnant and I'm nothing to Adhemar compared to her."

"You're still his family and I won't be responsible for the death of one of his," Will said, coming to crouch beside him. "Not when I can possibly prevent it. You're injured, helpless. You'd be easy prey for any other thieves hiding in these woods. It's not an option."

"Then send your herald riding fast to Adhemar and we'll likely meet him coming back with Adhemar and men within a couple hours." Robert watched William Thatcher mull that idea over in his mind as though he'd not though of doing that.

"It's a sound plan, my lord," the herald interjected. "I'll ride hard."

Hesitation flickered in Will's eyes, but he agreed, nodding. "Very well…." He paused, head cocking to one side, listening. In the distance, there was the sound of many horses approaching at a rapid pace. Quickly stepping between Christiana and Robert, Will and his two men stood ready, Will's hand upon his sword.

Robert wondered what the man thought he was going to do if a full army or even just a garrison came to them. Fight them all? It was exactly as Will had told Christiana -- four men, one injured and a woman untrained. Turning his head to the road, he saw men round the bend, dust billowing from their horse's hooves, and then Christiana blocked his view.

* * *

There was the tiniest flutter in her belly. Jocelyn pressed a hand to the spot, felt the child inside her. For the past week, she'd been wondering if she dreamt those little movements, but now she clung to them, welcoming the reassurance.

Adhemar would come for her. He'd take her from this place and she vowed she'd continue to treat him as a good wife should. He had to come. It was unthinkable that he wouldn't. He would come for her and for their child. She thought of all that had occurred between them, finding she could manage a laugh now to think of him playing the fool for her and her alone for weeks. She'd give anything to hear those lines of bad poetry again!

In the room beside hers, she heard the child, Mary, crying. The girl was so very young and frightened. The young woman that had been killed had been her maid, leaving Mary all alone. Jocelyn talked to her through the wall whenever she could, trying to entertain her and ease her fears. They played word games and counting games to pass the time and Jocelyn made up fantastic stories of princesses and knights. She was no Geoffrey Chaucer in her plots and characters, yet Mary responded with a lessening of sobs and requests for more detail spoken in her thin child's voice. When Adhemar came, she'd make sure they took Mary with them and returned her to her family, whomever they were.

For days, how many she didn't bother counting, the men left her alone, shoving food in at her, but mostly leaving her to herself. That promised chat with her captor didn't materialize immediately, leaving her apprehensive, angry, and scared all at once. None of them thought to give her water to wash with and she noticed that the dirt of this place was quickly darkening the pristine white of her coat into tan, ugly streaks, the hem -- dyed red as on her previous coat -- was turning a shade like dried old blood instead of the pretty bright color it had been.

Jocelyn fervently hoped it wasn't an omen of what was to happen to her. She'd been through the lowest of places before and didn't want to descend there again.

The door opened, her captor stepping in, favoring a patronizing smile upon her that had her gritting her teeth in annoyance as she crossed her arms.

"Dearest lady, Adhemar is dead. My men assure me they left him quite still and breathing his last in the road the other day." He closed the door, leaned against it, gaze slipping down her and back up.

From several feet away, she could smell his rank body odor. It seemed likely that he'd not sent water for her to wash with because he himself rarely washed. The scent caused her stomach to flip over in her belly and she swallowed hard before breathing through her mouth. Could he not smell himself? Jocelyn raised a hand to cover her mouth and willed herself not to be ill.

"It was fortuitous that you chose to go riding with him right then, for my men were coming to steal you away anyway. And to not have to fight Adhemar's men is just luck. However did you convince him to ride out alone?"

He thought Robert was Adhemar. Jocelyn struggled to keep her smug knowledge of that from showing on her face, though it was difficult with her hope firing up inside her. If he thought Robert was Adhemar, he'd hardly be expecting Adhemar when he inevitably did come for her.

"No matter. It's done. With Adhemar gone, it's only Sir William to come to your rescue and gallant ex-lover that he is, he'll run right here, bringing his friends and that farris with him. He'll exchange the woman for you, I'm sure. After all, look at everything he did last season to have you."

Henry certainly didn't know Will well. While Jocelyn thought he'd see the necessity of rescuing her, he was Christiana's now. Jocelyn was no longer his desire. He'd go to Adhemar first, wouldn't he? He'd tell Adhemar she was in danger and offer to help, but there was no way he was going to bring Kate or any other woman into a battle. Adhemar would come and when he found out this wasn't some blood feud over anything of his, but rather over Kate…he wasn't going to be pleased. It was one thing to kidnap his wife over something he'd done and another entirely to do so over a peasant woman associated with his former rival for Jocelyn's affections.

No, pleased was the last word to describe how her husband would be. She found she wanted to watch him kill this man, to make him suffer.

Jocelyn bit her tongue, though she longed to eviscerate the man with her own words. He soon grew tired of her silence and left her alone once more, pacing in her solitary prison. As the hours passed, night turning to a new day, impatience grew inside her. She'd fully expected Adhemar to rescue her long before now. Really, couldn't he hurry? Did he have to take his own sweet time in this?

As she paced, she grew more agitated until she stopped, staring at the door, a plan taking root in her mind. It wasn't filled with pleasant things, but rather things she'd just as soon not have to do and if it got out of hand, she could well find herself raped and killed before she could extricate herself. Or before Adhemar could find her.

If Adhemar wasn't going to rescue her on her timetable, Jocelyn would just have to rescue herself.

Without a mirror, she'd no idea how she looked. Still, she smoothed her clothes, her hair, and tugged her bodice as low as it would go. The guard on her was the same one for Mary. She'd been keeping track of that, watching in case she could aid Adhemar somehow when he arrived. Henry didn't seem to think they were in any danger of overthrowing the man and had kept only one guard there. It was usually the same guard. The manor was built along the same sort of plan as many she'd been in and she'd not glimpsed many men at all when Henry had thrown her in here. Did that mean he'd a paltry army compared to other men?

Jocelyn frowned. She'd never really thought about men and their armies before except in how the battles they fought might affect her home. She'd preferred to consider other things. Romantic things, like poetry and minstrel's stories. Maybe that was why she'd had such trouble letting go of Will and accepting Adhemar.

Giving herself a little shake, she relaxed her shoulders. No matter now. She was in the thick of life and wasn't about to go without a fight.

Hoping the guard didn't prefer a more buxom sort of girl, she opened the door. Over the years, she'd learned how to use her wiles to get her way. Now, there was far more on the line than a simple whim. Her life, and Mary's, depended on being convincing -- and in not being squeamish when she needed to take certain action. She was going to have to get her hands bloody and hope that someday, somehow, she could forget what she was going to do.

She smiled at the guard, noting the knife on his belt, and sized him up, forcing her emotions behind a cool mask. He was little more than a boy, younger than she, his uncertainty in the very set of his shoulders and his too-straight posture. He was a boy playing at being a man and she regretted for a few seconds the necessity of killing him. "Your employer is most rude."

"My lady?" His gaze slid down her and in them, a spark of interest.

"He leaves a woman alone for far too long." Stretching out a hand, she touched the coarse cloth of his shirt, dragged her fingers slowly down his skinny chest allowing her lips to curve in an enchanting smile. This boy, and hired ruffians like him, always believed noble women were hot whores under their icy, haughty veneer. Or at least that's what she'd heard Adhemar and his men joking about in the evenings. Her overture now would be like a fantasy come true. "I require…companionship and he's neglected me most sorely. Whatever shall I do?"

The start of a smile tugged at his lips and he glanced up and down the hall. "I'll…_companion_ you if you please." In his eagerness, he reminded her of a little puppy.

Her hand continued it's downward slow movement to his belt, Jocelyn staring up at him as though he was the most fascinating man she'd ever seen. "I so please." Her fingers curled about the hilt of the knife.

To her right came the sound of a sword pulling from a scabbard. Slowly, she released the hilt and turned her head, certain she'd feel Henry's fist upon her. Instead, she found the blond man who'd hurried away a couple days earlier. Jocelyn stumbled back into her prison as he approached.

"G-gavin. You can't see her. My lord says to kill you --"

Gavin's hand raised, covering the guard's mouth, forcing him against the wall, sword burying deep into his stomach. Jocelyn gasped, hands covering her mouth as her stomach once more churned. The guard was pinned there, thrashing weakly as he died. In only seconds, it was over. Once the body went limp, Gavin eased him to the floor, pulled the knife from his belt and proffered it to Jocelyn.

"My lady."

"You help me?" Striding forward, she snatched the knife from him and held it out as though to fight him. He glanced at it and nodded.

"Yes. But you must help _me_. Take Mary and keep her for me. If I don't come for her within a week, see that she's cared for."

A thousand questions flitted through her mind in a rush, among them being why her?

"Anne is her aunt," he explained tersely.

"Anne? Robert's Anne?" Jocelyn moved towards him, intending on grabbing his arm and making him explain, but he stepped away, opening the door to Mary's room. She gave a cry, "Papa!", and hurried into his arms.

"Come, my lady, we've no time for explanations. I must get you safe and then I've still more to do."

He snuck them from the manor and onto that road she'd been brought in on, tucking Mary's hand into hers.

"Please, walk. Henry's going to have a lot to think about in the coming hours and you'll see rescue very soon. I saw men, not Henry's, coming this way not even an hour ago."

Gavin was gone before she could do more than accept the child and, after a glance back the way they'd come, she sighed and guided Mary down the road. As she walked, she began to shake, trying desperately to hold back her tears of relief and fright for Mary's sake. They weren't safe yet, not until they were found by friends.

* * *

Henry of Burgundy wasn't stupid. Maybe he wasn't the smartest man in the country, but he wasn't stupid. He knew Gavin would eventually try something foolish, like trying to save the lady, the child, _and_ the woman. He'd told his men to let Gavin notice them following him. It was a simple plan really. Gavin had such a nice, convenient attachment to Mary. While Gavin was saving his precious daughter, which he would, of course, do first, Henry was going to pay a visit to lovely Kate. Gavin had to learn that he couldn't have everything in life. Mary or Kate. Never both and since he would without doubt choose his daughter first…. Well, he didn't deserve Kate and Henry planned to have her long before Gavin could get in the way.

* * *

Christiana didn't want to be left behind. Will was ten seconds from ordering Wat to pull her down from her mare and tie her to a tree, for if she was free, she'd follow. Of all the times she could choose to be stubborn, it had to be now, in front of Adhemar?

"Woman, will you behave," he hissed.

"I'm going," she insisted. "I can help."

"Oh, really," Adhemar interjected, waiting impatiently with his garrison behind him. His horse communicated Adhemar's own impatience by dancing about in constant movement. "What will you do? Threaten to stab the men with your sewing scissors?" He continued as she flushed scarlet. "No doubt you keep them sharp, but they won't free Jocelyn or do much damage. I've never retained a single scar any of the times I've been stabbed with scissors."

Which made Will wonder which woman in Adhemar's life had stabbed him with sewing scissors repeatedly. Or had it been women plural? He could easily imagine some poor vexed woman grabbing her favorite scissors to defend her virtue.

Christiana scowled. "Give me a bow and arrow and I can hit any target."

Since when? Will couldn't recall a single moment when Christiana had practiced the bow since he'd known her.

Adhemar transferred his gaze to Will. "Thatcher, control your wife. I've no time for this. Tie her to that tree and leave her here."

It was scary how Adhemar's plan matched Will's inclination at present. Perhaps tying her to the tree wasn't a good idea after all. It couldn't be good if Adhemar advocated it.

Adhemar glanced over his shoulder. "You there, Timothy, Albert, Gerard. Stay here, guard Uncle and…Lady Christiana. Let us be off and if I find my wife dead from your distraction girl, you'll pay a price, I assure you."

"Um…my lords…." Mark touched Will's arm, pointed to the road ahead. "Unless my eyes deceive me, no price need be paid at all."

All heads turned towards the direction he pointed. Sure enough, Jocelyn was walking along the road, carrying a young child. As she approached, Will could see that her hair was long and loose, her clothes obviously proclaiming her a noble, for no peasant wore such garments as she adored. It was just like Jocelyn to walk as though no one would dare accost her. Will breathed a sigh of relief that he need not ride into battle with Adhemar after all. He'd not put it past Adhemar to 'accidentally' kill him. He made to swing from his horse to the ground, but Adhemar laughed, an ugly, harsh sound.

"Going to claim my wife, Thatcher?"

"Not at all."

"Then stay here." Adhemar moved to the ground, left his horse with the nearest soldier and strode towards Jocelyn.

Will watched Jocelyn set the child down, say something that sent the girl to the side of the road, and bend. When Adhemar was close enough, she stood and began lobbing…rocks?…at his head. She'd an impressive aim.

"Wretch," she screamed. "How dare you approach me? Be gone from my sight!"

"What ails you now," Adhemar demanded, batting away rocks and taking her by the arms. He gave her a shake, one hand raising to cup her jaw.

"You ail me," she spat.

"How so do I ail you, wife?"

"You left me there, Adhemar. You were supposed to rescue me. Why didn't you come?"

"Well if you'd stayed where you were, I would have rescued you within the hour I expect."

She pounded his chest, movements that would not have hurt an insect. "I…" Jocelyn leaned forward, setting her head on his chest. Whatever she said next was too low to hear, but Adhemar's reply wasn't.

"Did he hurt you?"

Jocelyn shook her head. "No, but you have."

"I?" He released her and stepped back. "Pray tell what imaginary offense I've committed."

"I could have died, Adhemar, and you greet me with no more warmth than you would a servant. _I_, the woman carrying your child, your _heir_, has no tender embrace. I thought we'd agreed --"

"You threw rocks at me, all but making a warm reunion impossible…." Adhemar tilted his head back, stared up at the sky a moment, then looked back at her. "How do you want me to greet you?" His hands returned to her arms and she seemed to melt against him.

"Tell me you're glad I'm safe. Tell me…." Her voice lowered again and his in turn until suddenly, Adhemar pulled her closer, drawing her into a kiss and embrace that was far too fervent and heated for the middle of the road.

"They're perfect for each other." Christian remarked and Will turned his head to see a soft smile on her lips.

"Once I would have vehemently disagreed." He eyed the pair again. "Now though…"

"They're perfect."

Strange how he could see it after all these long months. Jocelyn had been everything he'd thought he'd wanted. What he'd needed had been a different story. He'd needed Christiana, her steadying influence and calm. Will could see Jocelyn and Adhemar knew what nerves to strike in each other and yet, they appeared to complement each other well. He was pleased to notice that Jocelyn clung to Adhemar, hands grasping his coat, holding him to her. It would be best if she was happy now. He'd hated hearing of her despair.

It was Jocelyn who broke the embrace, holding her hand out to the little girl who came straight back to her. Holding the child against her, Jocelyn finally looked Will's way, her expression grim. "Will, where is Kate?"

"Back at the house. This was supposed to be a quick trip and she had work commissioned that'll be due soon."

Jocelyn glanced up at Adhemar and back. "I'm afraid there's much you need to know and I doubt we've time to dawdle for the telling."

"Jocelyn?"

"It's Kate, Will. She's the reason I was taken and she's the one really in danger."

Quickly, she told what she knew. Henry wanted Kate, thought he'd killed Adhemar, and had planned to exchange Jocelyn for Kate. "But with me gone and Kate not with you he'll head for your home."

Home was only an hour away.


	19. Chapter 19

Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning  
Chapter: 19  
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Will is unable to marry Jocelyn, but circumstances present him with Christiana instead. Jocelyn, meanwhile, is given to Adhemar.  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.  
Notes: It seems appropriate that all of my planning to work on this went awry!

* * *

It was the destiny of ladies to be left behind when men rode off to battle. Christiana knew this as well as Jocelyn, yet that didn't mean it didn't rankle just a little. She didn't like being left behind and kept out of the loop. Still, it'd give her a chance to really talk with Jocelyn -- something they'd not done since the revelation in the stands. Jocelyn and Adhemar had been conspicuous in their absence for all these tournament weeks.

Did Jocelyn hate her? A glance showed Jocelyn preoccupied with Robert and the girl Mary, first making sure Mary was sturdy in the arms of one of Adhemar's soldiers and then that Robert was as comfortable as he could be for their travels. They were going to Adhemar's home, as it was closer, and then Mark and a few of Adhemar's soldiers would accompany them home.

Wat had gone with Will, all fired up because Kate was in danger. Christiana smiled a little. As if Kate couldn't take care of herself. Sometimes, Christiana thought Kate was far more capable than any of them. She'd had to be capable to survive as she had by herself after her husband had died.

With a last comforting touch to Robert's shoulder, Jocelyn stood and moved to the horse she'd been given to ride. "Well then, shall we be away?" Jocelyn didn't look at her until they were well on their way down the rode. Christiana waited, knowing they'd not get their easy friendship back quickly. Too much had changed and they were both different people now. Finally, Jocelyn maneuvered her mount close. "At least we've a bit of sun for this ride," she commented.

"Yes. You've fared well these months," Christiana offered in conversation. "There's a glow about you that's nothing to do with pregnancy."

"A glow," she repeated. "It's merely the sweat on my brow from unladylike exertions." While the words could have been petulant, they weren't, spoken with a small, amused smile.

"No, it's more," Christiana insisted with a glance back at Robert. He was groaning at every rough bump. "It's…contentment. You're contented in your life."

Jocelyn didn't dispute the charge. Instead, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed in thought. "Perhaps. It's strange, Christiana, the places fate takes us and the people it gives us."

Licking her lips, Christiana ventured the main question on her mind. "Do you hate me much?"

"Hate you?" A sharp glance flicked to her, then back to the road. "Why ever would I hate you, Christiana? It's true that I didn't like you very much that day Adhemar had you tell me the news, it wasn't your fault. It was a shock. I was hurting and said things I didn't mean. Surely you realized that?" Not waiting for an answer, she continued. "No, I don't hate you. We were both pawns of my father and I rather think we turned out far better in circumstances than he'd expected."

"We did, didn't we?"

"You, definitely. He expected Will to fail. Peasant born, peasant always in his mind. He never really understood what made Will successful. It wasn't family connections, power, and money, for he had none to begin with. It was his determination, his drive. As long as he has that, he'll succeed no matter the circumstances I think." Jocelyn sighed. "Adhemar has that determination, too. There's a bit of likeness between them. Adhemar wasn't always how he is now. Once, he was a boy who had romantic ideals in his mind and life smacked him about and shaped him."

"Do you love him?"

Now she laughed, a hearty sound. "Not by that definition I once spoke so confidently on. A man can love without giving poetry and without sweet-talk. He can be less than the minstrel's tales and yet so much more at the same time. He can give his heart and still infuriate and I…" She shrugged. "I can feel complete with that sort of man by my side when I had never thought it possible. So, if any of that is love, then I must say I think do love him." Her features scrunched up in mock horror. "Ugh. I've said aloud!"

If Christiana could find love with Will, then why was it impossible for Jocelyn to do so with Adhemar? It wasn't impossible. "Then I'm happy for you."

Jocelyn looked back at Robert and then forward at Mary, before speaking again. "No, I'm happy for you. And for Will. I don't know that I could have survived building a household instead of walking into one fully made, but you…you thrive in such situations. You always have. Making a beautiful dress from scraps, fashioning stunning embroidery from colors that shouldn't by rights go together. Seeing the best in situations. I envy you that."

"You flatter me," she protested. "I'm not always that way. Will would tell you that at times I'm rather horrid."

She held up a hand. "Well I don't believe it."

"Jocelyn."

"No. Let's just say that we're suited to our places and be done with it."

"I'd like that."

Their conversation slowly turned to other topics and Christiana was glad to have rekindled their friendship at least a little. Time would tell if it would remain fast.

* * *

Gavin stole Henry's horse and felt great satisfaction in doing so. At this point, he didn't care who knew he was no longer playing by Henry's rules. He was ahead of them all. Jocelyn and Mary would be safe before Henry could get to them, Adhemar would cause confusion among the few men here, and Gavin planned to have Kate safe long before Henry could find her.

William Thatcher's property wasn't too far from Henry's, but the difference between the two couldn't be more pronounced. Unlike Henry's property, everything about Sir Will's gleamed with prosperity. The fences were in repair, the fields well-tended, flowers and herbs and fruits weeded and pretty. The house and grounds were neat and everyone Gavin glimpsed was minding to their work. Except…there was no ring of Kate's tools.

Fearing the worst, Gavin left the horse loosely tied to a post and hurried towards the structure she'd claimed for her own. Voices were raised in argument, definitely Kate and Henry. Kate was saying that she'd no intention of being cooperative. There was the sound of her crying out. He reached the doorway and stepped inside.

Henry had a hold on her, one arm about her waist squeezing, the other in her hair, yanking her head back. It looked to Gavin as though her neck would snap from the jerk, yet it only succeeded in enraging her. She grabbed that hand, pulling it and turning her head, teeth snapping, biting at Henry's flesh. He let out a roar of pain. Kate fought like a wild thing, twisting this way and that, one hand fumbling at her table and when Henry loosened his grip, she slipped from him. There was a rending tear, one side seam of her dress ripping open, the fabric firm in his grasping hand.

With no room to maneuver in the tiny space and pull Henry from Kate, Gavin felt spectacularly helpless.

* * *

After managing to go all her life without being raped and murdered, Kate had no intention of letting it occur now. Her tools were all out of reach, which was unfortunate because they'd make lovely weapons. However….necessity, as the saying went, was the mother of invention. Her hand found one of her projects and she grabbed it.

"Let me go," she yelled, swinging the metal with all of her strength.

Her aim was true, the force of the blow sending Henry of Burgundy reeling and into the dirt, where he didn't move, blood spilling from his head. If he'd any sense he'd stay down.

"Touch me again and I'll bludgeon you," she spat, then looked to Gavin and stepped around the table towards him, raising the metal for another swing. What was he doing here? Hadn't she told him to leave her alone? Surely he wasn't with Henry. "What do _you_ want?"

He stumbled back from her, putting his sword away. "To save you," was his simple reply. He looked dazed, as though he couldn't believe what he'd just seen, head shaking left and right.

"From what? From him? Like I'm some weak damsel who can't save herself." She narrowed her eyes. "Is that what you think? I survived the tournament circuit on my own with men like him everywhere."

"But…" Gavin's eyes strayed behind her. "He's bigger than you."

Kate waved the metal. A piece of armor actually. A commission piece. Now she'd have to rework it. Henry's head had left a great dent in the panel. "Quality metal makes quick work of thick skulls."

"You've done this before."

She'd have thought it obvious and set the piece aside before crossing her arms. "Well, if all you wanted was to save me, you can go now. I'm saved." Not that she wasn't grateful he'd thought to save her, for she was. It was just…she wasn't a helpless thing like some of those noble ladies were. Kate could manage fine on her own.

"You're a most exemplary example of womanhood."

"Gavin." She rolled her eyes. He'd a goofy look in his eyes, shining admiration if she was seeing it right.

He sank to his knees before her. "I've been foolish, Kate, so very foolish. Will you hear me out?"

Her cheeks burned, but she wasn't sure it wasn't from the heat of the sun. "Get up off your knees." If he stayed that way for too long, they'd have an audience. Will's peasants were a nosy lot, especially that Agnes. "People are looking."

"Do you truly care for what others think? I doubt you do." Gavin stared up at her, hands resting on his thighs. "No, no I won't get up. I'll stay down here until you've heard all I must tell you."

Kate tucked her hair behind her ears. Struggling with Henry had pulled it free from it's braid. The tie was likely somewhere on the ground. "Is this some grand romantic gesture, because I don't go in for those, you know. They end rather badly most times."

She wanted to make him leave, yet at the same time, there was something in those eyes of his that made her pause. Kate let him talk and was surprised by what she heard, so much so that when Will rode in with Adhemar at his side as though they were lifelong friends, she only blinked and returned her stare to Gavin.

"Is it true," she asked. "You're noble by birth?"

"Regrettably." Gavin opened his mouth to say more, but Adhemar spoke and he turned his head from Kate, leaving her free to step back and ponder what he'd said without his attention on her.

Why was he declaring feelings for her and such if he was noble? He ought to know she didn't desire dallying with a nobleman. No good ever came from those meetings. She'd seen many of those trysts go bad. But…. Gavin wasn't like other nobles. He was different.

Kate turned her gaze back to Gavin, speculative as she watched him speak with Adhemar.

* * *

Adhemar wanted to kill Henry of Burgundy. All during the ride to Thatcher's home he'd imagined his hands about the man's throat and several other, more violent scenarios. Therefore, it was strangely unsatisfying to find Henry already dead in the dirt of the woman smith's little building with a good portion of his head bashed in. The woman Kate had a far heavier hand with armor than Jocelyn. Thank God. Jocelyn hit like a woman while this smith obviously hit more like a man.

"I could have told him she hits hard when she wants," Thatcher's redheaded man muttered. "Fight like a man if the mood's on her."

His lips twitched, but he refused to fall into good humor. It wasn't the thing to exchange quips with Thatcher's servant. Instead, he looked up from his perusal of the body, fixing his gaze upon his relative by marriage. "Gavin." He was wearier than the last time Adhemar had seen him, but there was such a purpose in the way he was looking at the smith, as though he was ready to walk the ends of the earth at her word.

Gavin started, appeared to realize there were others with them for the first time and returned the stare, confusion swimming in his eyes. "Adhemar?"

"Yes." He stood.

"You're alive."

"Very."

"How? Henry said you were dead in the road?"

"Him," Thatcher interrupted. "No, no that was his Uncle. We found him, my wife and I."

"Robert?" Gavin shook his head. "Wait. Who was Jocelyn riding with?"

"Robert," Adhemar replied, finding he said it at the same time as Thatcher. How irritating.

"Is he alive?"

Rolling his eyes, Adhemar snorted. "Uncle has the lives of a cat. Of course he lives."

Gavin remained kneeling in the dirt before Thatcher's smith. "Your wife then. She'll be needing found --"

"Done. She and a girl child were on the road and met us."

A relieved grin split his features and he began laughing, great peels that had an insane tinge to them. Adhemar wondered why Gavin was laughing so hard and didn't have long to consider it, as Gavin slowly raised his head again. "That girl child, Adhemar, is my daughter. I've been Henry's fool for months now trying to find a way to extricate us both. But she's safe and he's dead. I'm free."

"You've a child," Kate repeated, wrapping her arms about herself. Her eyes were slightly glazed over, as though she was deep in her own thoughts.

He hated to break Gavin's jovial mood and did so most reluctantly. "Your child is with Jocelyn at home. You'll have to bear familial pressures to retrieve her, as Anne and Uncle have been with us for months."

"I'm aware of that, Adhemar. I can stand Anne's joy at seeing me alive and well for a little while, but then…." His glance flicked to Thatcher, who was overseeing the removal of Henry from the smith's building. "Sir William," he called. "Might I have a word with you in private?"

Thatcher turned at his name, confusion upon his face for a split second before he nodded in a gracious manner. "Of course. You've done a great service for me in attempting to save Kate and I do appreciate it."

Gavin stood, touched Kate's arms, then started towards Thatcher. Adhemar tried to overhear what the two said, but there was too much din from the crowd steadily gathering. It appeared the two were negotiating, for once or twice Thatcher shook his head most emphatically, then listened with a growing frown until finally, he nodded. They shook hands, sealing whatever bargain they'd made, and Gavin strode to Adhemar.

"Well then. Kate, I'll be returning in a few weeks at most --"

She turned her pert nose up in the manner of miffed women everywhere and shrugged. "What do I care if you leave? You're a lord then. You can do as you like."

For a minute, Adhemar thought Gavin would argue, yet he only smiled, glance flicking down and back up the woman. "You care more than you'd like to admit."

One brow arched upwards, the ghost of a smile at her lips. "Perhaps, but you'll never know unless you do come back."

"We'll talk at length when I return."

Adhemar turned his attention from them and fixed it upon William Thatcher. He sighed. It was unfortunate there'd not been a battle or anything of the sort. That debt was still hanging over his head. Ahh, well, at least the world was rid of Henry and better for it in his opinion. "I'm still indebted to you for that one matter, as it did help in the end. This doesn't count as two debts, nor does my accompanying you here negate any debt. Regrettably."

"I could release you of that debt without collecting payment of it," Will offered, skirting Gavin and Kate to step closer. He raised a hand, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun.

"Good God, no. Then I'd feel even more indebted to you." Adhemar rolled his eyes. "No, I'll pay it eventually. Call on us when you've a need. Your lady and mine will doubtless converse with regularity, wearing out many a messenger. I somehow think we'll know when aid is wanted." Turning his head, he gave orders for a horse to be given to Gavin for the ride and for them to move out immediately.

At last glance, Thatcher, Kate and Wat were side by side watching them ride away.

* * *

Adhemar's home was not as far away as Christiana had thought. Indeed, they could be called neighbors. An hour was not terribly far. To think that they'd been an hour away from each other all this time! They should have written. Christiana should have written Jocelyn long ago. At least an attempt to settle things between them after that meeting at tournament.

She thought about the reunion between Adhemar's uncle and aunt. The two were well-suited and affectionate, Anne taking over Robert's care before they'd even fully ridden into the courtyard. The two loved each other deeply. She sipped her drink and smiled a little to watch Jocelyn giving orders and being every inch the lady of the manor. This place suited her and she was much in her element.

Finally, Jocelyn returned to her. "There, all is well and when you've rested, I've ordered several men to accompany you and Mark home."

"Thank you." She set the cup aside. "Jocelyn, what happened? Why were you out riding without guards? I can do so because Will isn't a high noble, but Adhemar is one." Her curiosity was eating her up about it.

Jocelyn's smile was sly. "I'll ask you to keep it a secret until Robert lets it be known."

"Of course."

She leaned closer. "Robert is investing in the cloth industry. He needed my advice since Anne hasn't the connections I grew up with in that area. He wanted sound advice for what to look for and what women want in their fabrics."

Christiana blinked. "The cloth industry."

"He wanted it kept quiet because Adhemar has a habit of pouncing on good business ideas. The sooner he can gain wealth back and rebuild their house the better, he says."

"It's that simple."

"Yes. I've given him several names and ideas and if he does well, I'll suggest he approach Will for a partnership. Cloth, in my opinion, will never become unneeded. Everyone needs clothes." She shrugged. "Adhemar wouldn't really be interested in the cloth industry anyway. Not as an investment opportunity, but with you and Will still starting out…." There was a tiny bit of apprehension in her eyes.

"I'm glad you're thinking of us."

Jocelyn grasped her hand. "We need all the friends we can get in this life. What sort of friend would I be if I didn't help you when it's within my power to do so?"

With that reestablishment of friendship, Jocelyn led Christiana outside to begin preparing for the journey home.

* * *

Jocelyn was pleased to see that Christiana seemed to want to continue their friendship. While she liked Anne, she preferred to have a friend like Christiana -- one who'd known her a very long time --, and while they'd both changed, she saw few obstacles in retrieving that fast friendship they'd once had. She knew Adhemar and Will wouldn't be friends, but they didn't need to be. All they needed was to be courteous when meeting in public.

Adhemar slid into bed beside her and pulled her close. "You look inordinately pleased with yourself."

"Christiana wishes to remain friends."

"Mmm." He slid his fingers down the long braid she'd just finished and removed the tie from the end. "I suppose this means I'll be cursed to see them with regularity if I let you have your way." He loosed her hair, spread it across the bed and pillow.

"An occasional visit is all I ask. Letters mostly. When you compete --"

"I won't compete again."

Jocelyn pushed herself to sitting. "Why?"

Stretching up a hand, Adhemar stroked his fingers along her cheek. "Because…that new world springing forth there belong to those younger than me and I'd live to see our children grow up."

She shoved his hand away. "You? Admitting defeat?"

"I admit no defeat," he frowned. "I simply acknowledge as men do that there are other things that have come to matter more to me than tournaments. My wife, for one. My unborn child for another." His stare challenged her to argue and Jocelyn decided that this was not a battle she should pursue. They would each call it what they liked, but his refusal to return to tournament meant that he'd be there with her unless battles took him away.

She laid back down, her head upon his chest.

"We could attend tournament next year if you're well after the birth."

Jocelyn smiled.

"I can make a lot of money off William Thatcher with you and she helping me read him at matches."

Her smile faded and Jocelyn rolled her eyes. At least he was amenable to attending….

* * *

It had only been a few days since they'd journeyed to see that piece of property, but it felt like weeks. Once Christiana was home, and Mark with her, they all sat down together to discuss what had happened. Christiana explained why Jocelyn had been out to begin with and slowly, they decided they knew as much of the entire story as possible. Henry of Burgundy was dead and would no longer attempt to menace Kate.

Will sat back against Christiana's legs, leaning his head back so she could run her fingers through his hair and stroke his brow. "After so much activity, I'm exhausted," he announced.

"You're not the one who whacked a man with armor today. Why are _you_ tired? All you, and Adhemar, did was ride in after it was all over." Kate wrapped her arms about her raised knees and rested her chin on them. Her words held a smile in them.

"I worked very hard riding to get here in time."

Wat cleared his throat. "_We_ worked very hard," he corrected. "But you didn't need us at all. I felt all superf…super…"

"Superfluous?" Christiana asked.

"No, that's not it." Wat shook his head. "I can't remember it. Geoff used the word a few times. It means unneeded."

"Superfluous," Christiana repeated. "That's the word."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Will laughed a little, then sighed. He hadn't told Christiana or any of them what Gavin had proposed during their whispered conversation and hesitated to do so just yet. To tell the truth, he was a little surprised by the request the man had made. Why would any man wish to become a servant when he was a noble already? That had been the gist of what Gavin had said. He wished a quiet life for himself and his daughter where he wasn't the one expected to make all of the decisions. He wished to simply follow instead of lead and working for Will would suit him fine since he'd seen that Will treated his servants with care.

Christiana curved her hand about his jaw, her thumb sweeping his cheek. She leaned down a little, her voice lowering. "What's wrong? You look…pensive."

"Just something I need to consider these next weeks." Taking her hand in his, he turned his head and kissed it. "We'll talk about it if it becomes relevant."

He continued to think about it during the next weeks, all during tournament and by the time tournament ended -- a second World Champion title for him --, Will decided Gavin hadn't been serious. He'd gotten back to Adhemar's household and fallen into that routine one slips into. Will convinced himself of that.

So it was a surprise when Gavin rode into their courtyard in time for winter, his daughter and their belongings in tow, all ready to keep his end of the bargain they'd struck.

* * *

Time flew by so quickly that Gavin despaired of returning to Kate. The only one who seemed to understand his need to be less than he was was Jocelyn.

"So many want to be more," she told him, "that those who wish for less are ridiculed. If you truly wish that life, Gavin, then with William Thatcher is the best place to be. He's a good man and you and Mary will prosper."

"You would not have loved him if he were not a good man," he returned with a smile.

"Smooth words," was her smiled reply. "Now, what do you need for your ride there?"

He'd expected to ride in without fanfare, hoping to slip in and begin duties with little circumstance. Instead, Gavin found the people gathering, following, until he reached the courtyard. William Thatcher stepped from the hall and Gavin dismounted, bowing before him.

"My lord. I'm yours to command."

"As per our agreement?"

He nodded. "Most certainly."

Will's look was measuring and then he nodded and shrugged. "Wat, find a place for Gavin and his daughter and see that they're fed. Come see me in the morning and we'll discuss your duties."

Wat, however, didn't look happy to see him. Not that Gavin had expected such. He was determined to be friendly and to talk with Wat. They should make peace if they were both to be here. Besides, there was Kate to consider. He needed to gain the friendship of her friends if there was to be any future for them.

* * *

After several weeks of working together in close quarters, Wat came to a decision regarding Gavin. He'd watched him interact with Kate and while he hated to admit a man besides himself could love Kate, Gavin obviously did. He watched her, helped her whenever he could and never spoke a word of anger towards her. Gavin behaved as a man besotted, which Wat could certainly understand. Kate was a treasure. Too bad she'd not looked his way at any time. Her focus was on Gavin. Wasn't that a sorry lot? But Wat had promised to only love her from afar. As far as he knew, she'd put no such restriction upon Gavin. Drat it all!

The more he learned about Gavin and his life, the more he realized the man wasn't the pain in the ass rogue he'd initially thought him. He meant Kate no harm and every one of those actions Wat had thought sinister were to protect her in the end. Gavin had a lot of Will in him, to be truthful. Honor and kindness and despite his ways, a little naivety. He believed in that happily ever after stuff. Gavin, Will, Christiana, and Jocelyn. All of one mind in that matter.

He found Kate hanging her clothes across a line she'd strung by her cottage and dragged over a stool to watch her.

"You could help," she suggested.

He glanced at the wet items. She'd only one left. What else was there to put up? "You're almost done."

Kate laughed, "Just like a man," and hung the last bit across the line. Grabbing the second stool that sat by the wall, she pulled it beside his and sat. "Are you still planning to leave us? We'll miss you sorely if you go."

"We'll be down the road a few miles if the sale goes well." He leaned down, forearms on his thighs, and glanced askance at her. "Do you like him?"

She copied his pose. "Like who?" Her voice was guarded, expression unreadable.

"You know who. Gavin. I thought you might awhile back."

Her gaze fled from his, searching the field until he thought she was looking at Will and Gavin practicing archery. "I don't know." Her indifferent shrug was too indifferent to be anything but artifice.

Wat swallowed hard and reached down, tugging a strand of grass from the ground and twisting it about with his fingers. "He's not like other nobleman, you know. He died to selfish ambition the day he had Mary to care for. He learned to truly love another person and it changed him." Would she laugh now to hear him praising his rival? No rival, he admitted to himself silently, feeling the heat of a flush on his cheeks. Kate had declared them friends only, so therefore, Gavin had a clear field towards her.

Kate's glance flicked back to him, the beginnings of a smile on her lips. "You recommend him to me? You of all people? After warning about him months back?"

He nodded, aware he looked rather ashamed of himself. "I was wrong," he gritted out through clenched teeth, throwing the mangled strands of grass back down to the ground.

Her laugh was hearty and warm. "Oh, Wat, you're dear to me!"

"Am I?"

"Always."

"Then I urge you to accept him. He's a good man and he'll treat you well. I'd not want to see you with a man I'd have to threaten a beating."

She sat up. "Are you sure, Wat?"

He looked at her face and while his heart broke a little to see the happiness there, he nodded. "If he's the man to make your eyes shine like that, then I can't be anything but happy for you."

Her arms went around him, a kiss pressed to his cheek and Wat let himself imagine for a final moment that she was his. In seconds that moment passed and he pulled away, standing and motioning towards the field. "Well, go on. Go admire his prowess with the bow or something. Mark and I've plans to make and I've spent too long avoiding those boring business dealings."

Standing as well, she gave a final smile his direction before striding towards the two men across the field. Wat reminded himself that hearts do mend and someday, some other pretty lass would catch his eye. He hoped it would be soon.

* * *

_Months later_:

The tent was unbearably hot, though it was hotter in the sun. Summer was in full bloom and while Christiana was heartily sick of being pregnant in the heat, there was no way she was going to miss Will's matches. She'd refused to be left behind despite the discomfort of travel. Kicking off her shoes, she raised her hem and set her feet into the basin of water Gavin had brought her. He'd discovered that the stream a little ways away was delightfully chilly and regularly refreshed the water for her. She rubbed her aching back a little -- those hard benches in the stands were still far too hard even with a plump cushion under her behind --, then reached for parchment and pen.

'Dear Jocelyn,

I hope to visit soon and see your son for myself. Unfortunately, tournament has kept us busy. I believe they're adding more tournaments every year! Will says we must wait until tournament brings us your way and gain approval from Adhemar first. You'll plead with him for me? According to the schedule, it'll be close to two months before we'll be near. Are you sure he has no plans to compete this season? We'd be able to visit sooner if he did.

Tell me, how did you manage travel while pregnant? I find it horribly uncomfortable. Will invested in a small carriage, but it's as bad as riding in a cart. Every little bump annoys. I do believe I know every bush beside the road these days and Will teases me that I'm eating us out of profits. Silly man. I'm only at five months by my calculations. Maybe six. You know how these things are. And my appetite hasn't increased too much.

Gavin has been indispensable since Wat and Mark left us. Can you imagine? Leaving to start a tavern. Mark takes care of the business end and Wat the food, drink, and people. I hear they're doing well already. But back to Gavin. He's been using all of those lessons he learned growing up and has helped Will even more than Geoff did, advising in business and taking over much of Mark's former duties and some of Wat's. And he's thriving. He says he loves it here as it gives him time with Mary and Kate.

Oh, that's a tale all itself! Mary has decided Kate is her mother and follows her about all day. Kate eventually took to her as well and has accepted Gavin as a suitor, though says she won't remarry unless he takes the trade. I'm happy for her, Jocelyn. He brings the roses to her cheeks and smile to her lips.'

She paused as Gavin entered the tent. "Yes?"

"My lady, you said to inform you when the next match will be set?" Coming to her, he bent, snagged a cloth and held it out so she could set her feet in it. Gavin carefully dried them and slipped her shoes back on for her. "It's nearing time and we should get you settled in a prime seat."

"So soon?"

"I'd carry you, but it'd cause a stir. Behavior unbecoming a servant and all." His smile had a bit of cheek to it and she laughed.

"Let me take your arm then."

"That, I know, is acceptable considering your overbalanced state." He cast a glance to her belly and she smoothed the fabric of her gown across it.

Really, she wasn't _that_ big yet! "You're teasing."

"If you insist."

He had her settled on a plump cushion minutes later, a drink in hand. Too bad a basin of water for her feet would be frowned upon. Christiana set the drink aside, then clasped her hands and was searching the field for Will when a silky voice intruded on her thoughts.

"Your husband had better be in top form. I've bet a fortune on him winning every match."

Turning her head, she saw Count Adhemar behind her. To his right was Jocelyn, as slim and beautiful as ever, but looking just as wilted from the heat as Christiana felt. He took her hand, steadying her as she walked down the two steps to Christiana's level and released it as she sat.

"He's been training all winter," Christiana said back to him.

"He'd better have. Duke Peter's competing this season, as is Lord Trevor, both of whom are upstart children with delusions of grandeur. They're not above cheating if it might win them a match or two." Adhemar leaned down, pressed a kiss to Jocelyn's mouth and stepped back up the stairs, Germaine trailing behind as he always had.

Jocelyn grinned, placing one of her hands over Christiana's and squeezing lightly. "Well, here we are. Together again."

The match was called and Christiana nodded. "Together again."

A sense of déjà vu swept over her and she sighed. Their plans may have all fallen apart, but in the end, it had all worked out for the better. Each of them had found that place they belonged and she decided that there was nothing lamentable at all in plans gone wrong.

**The End.**


End file.
